Behind the blue curtain
by Naqia
Summary: Being a mom to her nephew wasn't something Katniss Everdeen would have chosen for herself, although she managed to keep her employment at the local theatre. She has not much time to spare but somehow the new baker sneaks into her life. A historical AU set in the early twentieth century.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything The Hunger Games trilogy. All rights belong to Suzanne Collins. I merely write for my own entertainment._

_Summary: Being a mom to her nephew wasn't something Katniss Everdeen would have chosen for herself, athough she managed to keep her employment at the local theatre. She has not much time to spare but somehow the new baker sneaks into her life. A historical AU set in the early twentieth century._

"Katniss, please, there is no one else. You have to..… have to take care of him", Prim pleaded faintly. She was too weak to look up at me; even her normally rosy cheeks were dreadfully pale from the effort of childbirth. I sat by her bedside, not daring to leave for a single moment, afraid of what might happen. Of what was going to happen. She knew and there was no pretending.

Still, looking after a newborn on my own wasn't something I was eager to do under normal circumstances, and soon we would be the only family each other had left. Being an aunt was something I had gotten used to in the past few months. Being an aunt and mother at the same time was quite different. It was no question whether or not I'd do it. I had practically raised Prim from when she was about 10 years old, and despite her mistake I would let her or her son down.

"Of course I do", I reassured her, avoiding looking at her face . I felt close to tears so I simply took her cold left hand in mine to let her know that there was no need to worry about that as long as I lived.

"Don't blame him Katniss", she whispered. I didn't know whom she meant – the boy or the father that she refused to talk about. Every time I had asked she just smiled and shook her head, telling me that it didn't matter, and perhaps it truly didn't for her. Once I had nearly lost my temper, and as much I would have liked to yell at her at that moment, to let it out, I just couldn't. At least she gave in by assuring me that no one had touched her against her will. Those months I had been pretty busy with my career at the theatre. I'd spent so much time on stage rehearsing our new play, that I'd hardly been home, which I now regretted. Maybe the child wouldn't have happened if I had spent more time with her. Or possibly I would have some clue about the father. No matter what she kept telling me I knew that I had failed to protect her.

"Katniss?" Her voice now a bit stronger than before brought me back to reality immediately. "I'd like to see him." I nodded, fetching what she requested. The tiny boy in a white dress she knitted in her spare time. His blue eyes that already looked so much like hers had made me swallow hard when I had first seen them hours ago. Though the midwife told me that all babies have blue eyes and that their colour might change eventually, I hoped they wouldn't. The boy was sleeping now in the bassinet at the opposite site of her room. It had been Prim's and mine years ago, a bit worn but still in good shape.

I carefully lifted him and put him beside her. She gently stroked his cheek, though fortunately he still didn't wake up. "Little James." I could see her face filling with pride only slightly, due to the exhaustion that was wearing her out. While I wanted to soak in every detail about that scene, to remember later on, I also needed to escape for a few moments to calm myself. I would not cry in front of her but suddenly I felt as if I couldn't take it any longer in there.

I collected myself, and when I returned Prim and James were both asleep, the top of her white gown slightly open from breast-feeding.

* * *

"Taaaatty", squealed James as soon as he obviously had heard me locking the door. Today it was only nine and so I had allowed Rue to keep him awake until now. His smile showed every single white tooth as he ran towards me nearly tripping over his own feet. He must be very tired but still I let him play another 10 minutes with the building bricks before I changed him into his night dress. Not that I would complain, but I was so used to Rue having him already dressed for the night, that I was worrying what was wrong with her that she hadn't done that.

Bringing him to bed at least once a week was kind of a compromise I made with myself. I was responsible for him and I was going to sing him his lullaby as often as I could. I already failed once when I did not protect Prim the way I should have. Raising my nephew on her behalf and making him as happy as I could, giving him the best education I could afford, was the last thing I silently promised her at the funeral.

"Tatty!" he grumbled, yawning. I was probably taking too long for his liking. His brown locks spread across the cushion making me wonder once more if that was from his father's side.

"Which song do you want to hear, darling? Or shall I read you a tale instead?" Though it was our routine to sing the meadow song that he loved so much, he always had a choice, but he never needed to hear anything else from me. As expected, I wasn't disappointed this time.

"Meadow" he said simply.

Usually, he always joined me for the first few lines. Sometimes closing his eyes and sleeping before the lullaby ended, sometimes just listening as he did now. I kissed his forehead goodnight and left the room. Today's show had made me too tired to sit by his side until he dozed off this time. I returned to the kitchen where Rue had already made me a sandwich with eggs.

"You don't have to do that", I told her, but was grateful nonetheless. She was a kind girl, well, obviously she was a grown woman by now, but still I couldn't help thinking of her as one. I never regretted taking her into my home. She was not only my housemate but also a nanny to James when I was at work and my friend that I could rely on. To most people in the neighbourhood, our arrangement seemed suspicious but I did not care. I was free to choose to live in my parents' house with whomever I liked. Just because they had their own standards about "servants" (that what they considered Rue to be) didn't mean I wasn't impressed the slightest.

Their standards had never been mine. I had heard about several families sharing one apartment in the suburbs of the great industrial cities, whereas living with an unrelated woman in a house seemed to be scandalous here in Twelve. A few years ago, no one would have cared, since this used to be the poorer part of town. But for some reason it was now a proper one. Families like the Hawthornes, who had lived next door, had moved to the new suburbs. I had refused; being paid quite well, I was able to keep the house, which was the smallest one in the area. The plain brick house was considered an eyesore since it was neither stuffed with decorations, nor did I care about the tiny front garden.

"I know you cannot sleep without having stomached anything. How was the show today?" Prim asked, bringing me back from my thoughts.

"Pretty normal, I would say. Miss Mason was in her best manner, Miss Trinket was running around like some wild turkey because some shoe had gone missing and Mister Abernathy… well you met him" I replied. "But it was my lucky day, Mister Cato Stone himself was in the audience. Miss Trinket was so happy to see those lovely, lovely flowers." I sighed theatrically to not only imitate Miss Trinket's choice of words but also her behavior, which made Rue laugh. Mister Cato Stone was some kind of admirer, a very important one. According to the rumours, he always sent nice bouquets of roses to the locker room for his chosen lady.

Most ladies were impressed, and some even fell in love afterwards, but he always turned them down sooner or later. He was quite stuck on me, though. Most likely because I never returned his affections, I was somehow the one that he most chased after. His father was some kind of businessman who owned several factories in Chicago, easily explaining why he could be so generous with this whole flower thing. One could say the more I got the more I hated roses.

"How could one not love this very likeable man?" Rue had never met him in person, but endured my constant complaints about him or his attitude. I even gave her a small show of his bows and compliments when he once made an appearance at a ball of the theatre company where we were required to participate. "Finished?" She didn't wait for a reply but cleaned my plate in the sink before I had the chance to do it myself. I never wanted her to pick up after me; after all, she wasn't my housekeeper or servant, but my friend, though it never stopped her.

"I apologize that I'm no better company tonight. Still ... How was James behaving today?" Lately he was having temper tantrums when I left. Despite the fact that Rue had always looked after him since she moved in (that had been part of our agreement), he somehow noticed a difference between her and me recently. Sure, I was his only kin, but Rue and I raised him together, and he was used to her.

"As usual" she replied and sat down across the table once more. I got the feeling that my worries about the night dress were right after all. By the look in her face even at that dim candlelight I knew something went very wrong today.

"You can tell me Rue. If he insulted you or misbehaved in any other way I want to help you out of it."

She sighed heavily, giving me a second reason to confirm my suspicion. "He informed me I wasn't Tatty and therefore I was not allowed to tell him anything." That was not the usual stubbornness, this was worse.

"I'm sorry to hear that." I could guess how much that must have hurt Rue. Being treated like a black, like some kind of sub-human, though she was considered a "mulatto," was something she was used to. I was one of the few that did not care about that. My belated father had taught me that all humans were equal and I believed in that. Around Sae or at my home she was treated with all respect, just like a white person, but I know how much she suffered from the situation in general. It had taken several weeks to convince my neighbours she was neither robbing my house, kidnapping James, nor planning something to harm them. I had the feeling that the last one was what mattered most to those merchants.

I had simply kept my face straight, assured them she had my trust and was to be considered respectable, and if there would ever be a problem with her, they should report to me. They weren't spitting in her face, but they never greeted her, even with a curd nod. I had noticed that Mrs. Flickerman still crossed to the other side of the street when her children went along with her.

"It will get better" she just said.

"Don't let that get you down, Rue, he is three years old. If anyone told him you were the queen of whatever kingdom he would believe that, too. Nonetheless, I'm going to have a talk with him tomorrow. You are his friend, and just because I am his aunt by birth and you're not, he has no right to not listen to you." She smiled gratefully and I think I saw her brown eyes lighten up a little.

"I guess that Crane boy gave him that idea when we were shopping at Sae's. James and Lucius Crane were having a conversation. I did not hear what he said to our little one but afterwards he refused to take my hand on the way back home. I thought he was just being stubborn and he would be back to normal at home but it felt like he despised me."

"You know how much I appreciate you being here." And I surely did. If there hadn't been that incident when I met Rue, I would have had to either give up on James or get a nanny, which would have also meant having to work even more. When I first took James, who was just a couple of weeks old, to work every day, it had unnerved Miss Trinket and also Mister Abernathy, who was not too fond that baby cries could be heard during the show. I had already waited them to provide my dismissal, but Mister Abernathy had proved more sympathetic than I could have ever imagined. He just advised me to get some rest when I could. I still had the leading part at the Shop Girl show, which meant that I had to do one or two shows daily, in addition to the rehearsals for the smaller presentations that we had twice or thrice a month. I wasn't rich, but I could make my living with it, provide food for all three of us, and had enough left over for a minor payment for Rue.

If it hadn't been for her, I might have gone, like many others, to Cray, to get paid for certain services, so I could get a nanny for James. No, I was glad we met; she had spared me that humiliation.

"Thank you", she simply said. I was lacking the right words but I hoped that Rue did know what I meant.

_Author's notes: I'd be happy if you let me know what you think about that one. Good? Bad? Anything in between? Any kind of criticism is also welcome. I did some researches and try to stick as best as I can but I cannot guarantee that it will always be correct._

_Naqia_


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: To all of you who reviewed and alerted this story: thanks, it means a lot :)_

_I'd also like to thank my wonderful beta marycontrary82 who made sure you won't have to handle with all my spelling and grammar mistakes._

_But for now, enjoy reading :)_

_-Naqia_

Chapter Two

James and I had the talk yesterday. I was seldom angry with him, but since Rue was still upset that morning, I wanted try to make him see what was wrong with his behaviour. For a three year old, he was able to understand quite well if I explained to him properly. Though I'm not sure if the way I raised him was the right way. Prim had been older when I fulfilled my mother's duty after my father had died. I had no one to question about such things, only Sae, who never had children of her own.

She had told me often that I treated him like an adult when I tried to make explain what was wrong with his behavior, or why I wanted him to act a certain way. Plus, she thought a small clap if needed would be appropriate, instead of thrashing it out. I had seen classmates with bruises, I knew it was common to do so, and no one would judge me if I did, but my parents were kind of unconventional about some things, never raising a hand to either of us. I had kept it that way. Prim had been the more motherly type of between the two of us, and I had trusted her to do the right thing when James would be born. I never intended to interfere in that aspect, but now I must do it myself.

* * *

Today's show was sold out, as was usual for the late Saturday night shows. The first one had gone very well, and the mayor of Twelve and his wife had been in the audience, which was the best approval we could get. He even applauded at the end, which made all of us proud. Impressing mayor Coin was a hard thing to do. If word spread that he liked it, more people might come to see our show in the next few weeks, which possibly meant extra shows, and hence, extra money.

"Show starts in twenty minutes!" Mr. Abernathy shouted from across the floor which led to the stage. I was already dressed for the first scene. Every time I changed my gown for the stage and put on my make up I felt like somebody else. I was neither Bessie, nor any one of the other characters I played, nor was I my real self. The mask of makeup made me feel more confiden,t as if no one could ever harm me. No one could tell, but being dressed up, I felt less vulnerable.

The mirror reflected a woman in a white black striped gown, lightly puff-sleeved, overdone with makeup, smiling even. Her hair was curled and partly pinned up in the latest fashion, topped by a ridiculously overstuffed hat with flowers (which simply represented Miss Trinket's own taste in clothing). If one knew, one could see that she had removed some flowers and replaced them with others. Miss Trinket was acting ridiculous about superstition, and therefore nothing yellow would get near the stage. She even removed some leaves. The less green the better, she had told me sternly, scowling at me because I had not appreciated the grand favour she had done me with that. I couldn't care less.

"Guess who's seated in the front row?" Miss Johanna Mason asked me when she entered the room we shared, her trademark smirk on her face. She flung herself into the arm chair, not caring about the precious blue muslin costume. She even loosened her corset, which was all but appropriate. But she usually didn't care behind the scenes. "Ah, I finally get to breathe …"

"You know you should not peek" I repeated Miss Trinket's mantra only to distract her, hoping she would drop the topic. "It's very, very bad luck after all." I had an idea of whom she was talking about, and that did nothing to lift my spirits. It was enough that I was sure going to have to handle that big bunch of unwanted roses later on.

"Yes indeed, Miss Everdeen is absolutely right! I, and everybody else for that matter, would not mind if you were more careful about that." Speaking of Miss Trinket, she must have overheard the last part of our conversation as she entered the room. She sniffed at the sight of Miss Mason, which only served to make Miss Mason grin.

"I must say that you don't look like a decent young lady" she stated, annoyed. I could see the struggle in her face. Debating, or leaving Miss Mason at that. Miss Trinket must have decided that the case was lost on Miss Mason, so she turned to me. She made sure to always approve everyone's hair and makeup, sometimes in a fuss. Now, she put just one single lock back into place. Obviously this was one of the rare occasions she was content with my labours.

Things like these were what Mr. Abernathy had hired her for. She handled always made sure we were in neat and tidy costume, never forgot to tell us about important persons in the audience ahead of time, and had ordered enough makeup to last her entire lifetime. She also had this thing about manners. If I were her, I would have already given up, since no one cared except for maybe Miss Cartwright. But Miss Cartwright's manners were none that needed to be criticized. It was rather Johanna Mason's and for which she did not care a single bit.

„Fine, fine. It's a big… Miss Mason, may I at least ask you to not eat one of those unpleasant things!" exclaimed Miss Trinket watching at her in disgust. Chewing gum was what I supposed was Miss Masons latest habit to anger her. You could really see her self-content grin when Miss Trinket left the room in a hurry mumbling something I didn't catch.

"Maybe the two of you would be on better terms if you could spare her the sight of it" I said carefully. A part of me pitied Miss Trinket, to be honest. Either you got along with Johanna Mason or you didn't at all, and I was glad the was the case for me. "But the mint one is the best" she explained in an earnest manner. "You want one?"

"What an honour" I retorted.

"As I was implying earlier before we were interrupted, you might expect a nice bouquet of roses later on." Cato Stone, as I had assumed. I sighed wondering when this would come to an end.

"He's been suiting me for about a year, if not longer, is he not supposed to give up some time?"

"He won't stop unless you do as he wishes. If you believe the rumours, he is perfectly able to please any woman. Not that he has taken any interest in me though" she admitted.

"Miss Mason!" In my opinion, she was once again speaking too openly about such intimate matters.

"You mustn't blush! Just saying you might have some fun sometimes." It was common knowledge she sometimes gave in and had some 'fun', always using 'protection,' as she had told me once in secret (not that I cared to learn about that, however). With people like Johanna Mason around, it was no wonder people thought ill of me.

"_I_ still have a reputation to lose" I grumbled, leaving my stool to stand up straight. First, it ended the conversation I wanted to escape, and second, I preferred to sing a bit to get rid of the tension ahead.

As a minor role six years ago, when I had been at the beginning of my career, and there had been nothing to worry about but at the very first performance in a leading role, I had panicked and Mr. Abernathy had to talk sense into me for several minutes. In the end he had quite literally shoved me onto the stage. Since then I had improved, and I did not need the singing anymore to calm my nerves. Stage Katniss had grown to handle that without her stressing out. Miss Mason joined me in after a few seconds. It was our ritual; her voice was deeper than mine, some people called it boyish. That was why she sometimes had to take over the part of male adolescents.

"Two minutes!" Haymitch shouted, causing us to both stop at once, and I left her behind. As Faith, one of Miss Appleby's daughters in the play, Miss Mason had her part later on, so I went alone across the wooden floor right into scene. The chorus was already gathered and sang the opening from backstage.

Though I knew it was bad luck, I couldn't keep myself from peeking through the curtain. I saw immediately that: a) every seat was taken and b) Mr. Cato Stone was seated front row, today he was wearing a grey striped suit (as far as I could tell), and he sat along with Mr. Odair who always gave his best charming smile. I didn't like him.

_For a cat to a cucumber If you only have a number, We will sell you at the Royal Stores._

Mr. Odair was no better than Mr. Stone but because of his looks - even I had to admit he was a handsome beau – he was more successful and had broken a decent number of hearts from what I knew and yet was engaged to a lady whom I did not remember. Poor girl, he would break her heart too.

_You'll find, you'll find at the Royal, loyal Stores, You'll find at the Royal Royal Stores!_

I quickly got back in position as I heard those last lines of the opening.

* * *

Throughout the play, I could feel Mr. Stone smile at me. It was never a friendly smile, but a presumptuous one. I also knew he watched my every move. I was happy when the show was finally over and I made my way back into the locker room.

Johanna Mason was already in there still in her cream coloured Faith dress. She nearly hung in that chair as she had before the play eating some grapes. The scent of fresh roses hung unmistakably in the air. "Mister Snow sent you some grapes along with the flowers."

"How nice of you to ask," I stated sarcastically, not hiding my disappointment.

"First come, first serve. I thought you would not care either way." She shrugged and put another one in her mouth. Her hanging in the armchair, eating grapes reminded me somewhat of the picture of a decadent ruler in the ancient times, whose name I quite couldn't recall.

"I do not care about the flowers, but the little one would surely have liked the fruits." I pointed out. To be honest James only got them if Mr. Stone gave them to me. Grapes were expensive, nearly a luxury. Nothing I could afford easily

.

"Oh, ummmm….. there are still a few left." At least she was behaving embarrassed. She didn't apologise though, not that I had expected her to.

I put the pink roses down so that I could see myself in the mirror as I removed my makeup and finally moved behind the wooden folding screen to change clothes. Not that Mr. Abernathy would have cared about things like this, but Miss Trinket had talked him into it, which I was glad for. Miss Mason had just rolled her eyes when the screen was brought in, murmuring something like, "unnecessary prudish demeanor". I always had it to myself.

Me being in my undergarments was nothing I wanted someone to see, neither Miss Mason nor anyone else, I had always felt as if I wore nothing at all. Exposed and bare I felt vulnerable like the Katniss that was somewhere deep down inside. Like the one who was weaker that I myself denied ever to be. I had to be strong, really just had to. First for Prim, when my father passed away and my mother's will with him, and now for James. I could not let myself down, or all those suspicious glares would get back at me. It was worse when unknown people assumed he was mine. I just could see it in their faces, though everyone in my neighbourhood knew better – they had seen Prim pregnant – they did not trust me to raise him as a proper member of society.

It never got me down, - I was too used to that- but it bothered me that despite what I was doing, it would never be good enough. I could adapt to them, but like I already said, their standards have never been mine, and they would always condemn me as if Prim's mistake had been my own. In failing to protect her, it truly was my fault.

I grabbed the grape leftovers and the bouquet to give it to someone on my way out. "See you on Monday" I said to Miss Mason, who still hadn't moved.

"Sunday service starts early, huh? Still don't get why you are doing it." Sometimes I asked that myself. The answer was that simple: "for James as you may know by now" Despite him being born out of wedlock, I wanted him to be accepted. I didn't care about my soul's salvation anymore; after my father's death I had lost my faith. Being indifferent, I had refused to go to church for several years just until James was born. It was another concession I made. If being a decent member of society meant to attend church regularly, then that was something I could endure for his sake.

"They will convict you nonetheless. Honestly, you are not like them and you probably never will. You are a piece in the games of pretending and it won't work."

I was too stunned to reply, no one had ever dared to speak to me like that. She seemed a bit pensive, but being Miss Mason also meant she would not go further into the topic. She was proving my thesis right.

"Have you noticed that blond guy at the right side in the front?" she asked suddenly when I tried to leave for the second time, already touching the cold metal of the door knob. I turned towards her

"No? What about him?" Truthfully, I had seen him. Since it was no one that I knew, he had to be some guest of someone in town or maybe just an occasional transient. I hadn't paid further attention, I had just caught him stare at me once or twice out of the corner of my eye. It was something I was used to from Mr. Stone

"He was smiling at you the whole time. Maybe you now have to choose from two suitors."

I left without any comment, slamming the door behind me.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything The Hunger Games trilogy. All rights belong to Suzanne Collins. I merely write for my own entertainment._

_Summary: Being a mom to her nephew wasn't something Katniss Everdeen would have chosen for herself, athough she managed to keep her employment at the local theatre. She has not much time to spare but somehow the new baker sneaks into her life. A historical AU set in the early twentieth century._

_A/N: Thanks again to my wonderful beta _marycontrary82_ who put up with all my mistakes, got it back to me in no time, encourages me and helps me with the details. I'd especially like to thank her _grandmother_ for sharing information about every day life with me. Honestly, I cannot thank both of you enough!_

_To all of you who alerted this story and of course _micmic02_ for the review: thanks, it really means a lot to me to know you like the story :)_

_-Naqia_

* * *

"_Sure, Mrs. Muller, we will not be late again. I am truly sorry_," I say to the preacher's wife. She has taken it personally that James and I were running ten minutes late to the service, and consequently, her goddaughter's baptism. I flash a small, rueful smile to make my apology believable. I really was sorry, but still, smiling was not exactly my forte. Now, most people could not really tell if it came naturally or if I did it on purpose. It had taken me several weeks to master that technique and it had been helping me out in situations like this one. Fortunately, Mrs. Muller was just as easy with forgiving as she was with feeling hurt by trivial matters. She was one of the few people who had accepted James' and my presence without questioning it. I'd like to stay on good terms with her and I hadn't really intended to be late. First I had overslept, then, James had been in a really bad mood when I woke him. He refused to be still when I started his morning routine of washing and dressing, which had cost me 15 minutes more than usual.

"_Come on, Lucius, you have better companions to play with than this … __boy_."

Several seconds later I felt how James grasped my skirt and I could easily guess whom Mrs. Crane had been referring to (loud enough for everyone to hear). James had strolled to the other children when Mrs. Muller had started talking to me, and I didn't think it would be any harm as long as he stayed in sight, but I should have known better. Tears were rolling down his cheeks.

"_Tatty_?" He sobbed. Mrs. Muller gave me an understanding look when he grabbed my hand and I patted his back while trying to get out of the conversation as fast as possible. Etiquette dictated that I couldn't have left right away, so I promised her that it would not happen again, pointing out it that this was the first time. Then I could finally take care of my little one.

"_Shh, everything is going to be okay, James_." I said soothingly while I knelt down beside him. There was no way to make this any better now, so I tried to distract him until I figured out a way to explain it to him. "What _do you think of playing with the ark today_?" The ark was his most precious toy (it had been mine as well) and was only fetched from the shelf in my room on special days.

As I had hoped James agreed immediately. So, while he was busy playing on the kitchen floor after we got home, I was doing the laundry that had been soaking in the metal bathtub since yesterday's weekly bathing session. Sundays were supposed to be quiet days without work but it had come to be my normal washing day; as long as no one knew, no one could object.

My father had carved the wooden figures of the ark when Prim and I were little girls. Noah and Naama were the only people he made. But there was a good choice of animals, a cow and a bull, two horses, two sheep, two dogs, two giraffes, two lions, two snails and one single elephant. The other one got lost so long ago that I couldn't even remember it. Two small birds, which my father had called mockingjays, were my favourites. Of course he made up the name and I think they were supposed to resemble doves, but like him, I always thought of them as mockingjays, I couldn't help it. James had never seen them; for I knew he would have wanted them to play with. Selfish or not, those mockingjays were solely mine.

I rubbed a particularly brownish spot on James' linen shirt and sighed; I would probably have to dye that. When I made my way past the table (and also James) to fetch the ashes for the lye, he stopped me by grabbing my skirt for the second time that day. I could tell at once something else was bothering him.

I stepped back to sit down on the nearby chair. Knowing that look on his face, it would take some time and the problem would not be solved with a single sentence. "_Come here, James_", I said, and he willingly climbed onto my lap, still pensive, as only a child can be. I put my arms around him, letting his head rest on me, his limbs dangling to my side. On occasions like this I just knew what he wanted and needed, but still, I was no motherly type.

"_What's wrong_?" I finally inquired after a long pause of silence.

"_Why you not my mother_?"

Once in a while I showed him a photo of Prim that had been taken two or three years before she left me. I had always told him that she was his mother and that she was gone for good. Sometimes I even added more details to make it vivid for him, to get an impression of what she had been like, how kind and caring she was. But maybe Sae was right. I had expected too much of him and there was no use in explaining things to him the same way I would to an adult. Now it was coming back on me. Obviously, he had not understood that the person in the picture had been a living person or that sometimes people were no longer among us. It dawned on me that, despite my efforts to make him comprehend, it was just a picture to him, something abstract and unreal, like some picture in one of his books. A picture of a person he did not know and never would get to meet.

"_Because I am not_."

With my new realization I was in no mood to explain. I felt tired; exhausted even. I didn't know how to handle this right now, and I suddenly wished to be somewhere else, or at least to be the confident stage Katniss.

"_Everybody have one_" he said, freeing himself a little to look into my face. He stared at me with a saddening expression. There was a longing in his gaze that I had never seen before; it scared me.

"_Yes, you are right, but I am your mother's sister, your aunt_." I simply stated.

"_So why she not here?_" He was obviously not going to drop the topic. I wrapped my arms even tighter around him, forcing him into our former position, resting my chin lightly on his brown curls. I didn't want him to see how close I was to tears, and how could I endure that look in his eyes any longer? Though I was never meant to be a mother, I had hoped I would manage it; that I was doing okay. Now I felt like everyone around me was right; I simply wasn't able to raise a child properly.

"_She's gone and will never come back, James_" I whispered. It took all my strength not to put him onto the ground and flee.

"_She not like me?_" The tone of his voice changed from inquisitive to sad. The door opened, but Rue turned back around as soon as she spotted what was going on. I would thank her later for that.

"_She would have loved you, if she was still around_."

Remembering the words from my Sunday school teacher back when my father had died (among many others) in the coal mine accident, I told him she left a little earlier for heaven and was watching him from above, but could not come down to us. For me it worse than my own explanation, but that one had failed. No, not the explanation, but me. Then the first tears in a long time fell, and I was not able not hold them back any longer.

"Tatty no cry." James, still on my lap, rose to his knees and hugged me. That's when I really started to cry.

* * *

I made my way down to Market Street to old Mr. Tuner's house. It was a busy Monday and we had quite some difficulty avoiding all the residue of the horses when we had to cross a street. I sometimes get the feeling that you could tell the day by just how dirty the streets were. Mondays and Fridays were usually the worst. On some parts I simply carried James, which he wasn't fond of, and pouted in protest. I didn't care about it. If it kept him tidy then he would have to deal with it.

Since yesterday's outburst I had kept my mind constantly busy as best as I could. I had recited the new dialogue as Angélique for next week, for a rather small play which would only have four performances. Unlike 'The Shop Girl,' 'The Imaginary Invalid' was quite unpopular these days. Why Mr. Abernathy even chose it though was beyond me.

It would be quite a relief to have a baker nearby, instead of charging Sae, who was busy with her husband's business and her household. But since neither Rue nor I were capable of making bread that anyone could actually stomach, she still did it without complaining. We had tried a few times (I only once); Rue had been more persistent, but just as unsuccessful as I.

All the bread we needed was provided by Sae; I had nearly begged her to do it after Mr. Hallifax downtown had let us down, or rather Rue. I refused to buy bread from someone who spat at my friend's face just for not being the kind of customer he wanted. After all, she was considered black, which she wasn't, but people like Mr. Hallifax would never care.

Old Mr. Turner has been just like him. I remember him as a rather unpleasant fellow who could swear so badly that even Miss Mason could learn from him. He passed away some month ago, and his former tiny grocery store had been vacant since. If there truly was a new bakery, it was worth a try to unburden Sae. I knew she would like that.

I usually didn't walk around in this area; the theatre and Sae's were in the opposite direction, but Rue had spotted it yesterday. She was on her way back home from helping out at Sunday school in the area where only blacks lived, on the outskirts of Twelve, followed by the obligatory visit to her uncle's. It was quite a distance from us but she didn't mind.

I put James down after the last crossroad on our way; we were nearly there. Nearly all the houses looked the same, but the bakery wasn't hard to find, even if you didn't know exactly where it was. There was a wooden sign with red lettering, spelling "P. Mellark" across the entrance and the windows. We peeked through the window where another sign hung under the window sill, spelling, "Bakery".

When I opened the door and a bell rang above our heads, the smell of fresh baked loaves greeted us. It reminded me of my own childhood. Mother was usually baking on Saturdays, so it was fresh on the day of rest, and on the rare occasions when my father took me to the meadow after his work to collect edible plants with me, there was nothing better than coming home after a five miles walk to the smell of fresh baked bread at home, just like in the bakery now. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, letting loose for a split second, until a male voice shouted "_Just one moment, please_!"

There was no one at the bakery besides us, but I hadn't chosen to come here at noon for no reason.

"_Tatty, look!_" James had already found the only sweets that were in the display, a batch of cookies covered in powdered sugar. Sweets were a rare treat and I wasn't about to get him one.

"_I see, James_." I said, managing a smile. A young man, maybe five or six years older than me, came from the back room. I noticed his limping immediately, despite his attempts to cover it. There were several dots of dough and traces of wheat sticking on his apron, where he obviously had wiped his hands. Also his blond hair was slightly covered in flour. He looked kind of familiar and yet I couldn't place him. I was proud to nearly always remember people I already met, but it seems he was the first exception in a long while. One would have thought I could remember intense blue eyes like his.

"_How may I serve you, Mrs. Everdeen_?" the baker asked politely and smiled kindly. I raised my eyebrow accidentally at this personal salutation. My reaction was not very ladylike and he chuckled a little.

"_Tatty_", James said pleadingly. May the discussions about cookies begin.

"_Hold on a second, James. It's Miss Everdeen, actually_" I said, addressing Mr. Mellark. "_Would you mind telling me where we have had the pleasure to meet?_"

"_Tatty_!" Now James was dangling on my skirt and crossing the boundaries of my patience.

"_James..._" The warning tone in my voice couldn't be overheard. Mr. Mellark seemed amused by our conversation, and in my anger, I could not prevent myself from glaring at him, only until I remembered to mind my manners just a moment later. His wide smile had already faded and been replaced by a simple polite one. I instantly felt instantly sorry, as it was not his fault after all.

"_I am very sorry, Mr. Mellark. Sometimes, James and I just disagree on things, right, little one?_" He nodded shyly while staring at his shoes. His attempt to not look to the cookies was nearly impossible to not laugh at. He was such a lovely boy at times.

"_It's alright_." But I sensed he was taken aback by my former rudeness.

"_You still didn't answer my question_", I reminded him, and offered him one genuine smile to hopefully make his unease vanish. Would I ever be at least average in handling chit-chat-situations?

"I _enjoyed your play at the theatre_", he said kindly.

"_Oh, were you at 'The Shop Girl' on Saturday_?" I blurted out. Now I knew, and he seemed to be happy about the fact that I had noticed him. He simply nodded.

"_Oh, two loaves of those, please_." Get down to business, Katniss, I told myself, that's why you came here. I pointed at the rye bread which was placed beside a few wheat rolls. "_Please don't_", I asked Mr. Mellark after he had given me my order and his hands were moving towards the cookies. "_I don't want to spoil him_." Also, that's nothing I could afford on a regular day like this.

"_How could I deny a cookie to such a charming young gentleman?_" he winked, but James still stared at his shoes. Maybe he took a guess about the other reason of my refusal.

"_No, no, you really don't have to_" I objected. Getting something for free was against my rules. Our bare hands brushed for about two seconds longer than it was appropriate when I handed him the money. I really should have taken my gloves with me to avoid physical contact. It felt strange and wrong to touch someone who I barely knew, and it was against etiquette.

"_Oh, I'm ... I'm sorry_", I mumbled, embarrassed, looking anywhere but at him. What should he think of me? "_And I really don't want to cause you any inconvenience, I would feel like I owe you…._" I finally admitted. I was not sure why I felt the need to tell him; it was none of his business. When I had regained myself, I could see him chewing at his bottom lip, obviously unsure about what to do.

"_Mrs. Everdeen_..."

"_Miss Everdeen_", I corrected promptly.

"_Right, Miss Everdeen, might I offer you a deal? If you told people about my bakery and of course how tasty my bread is_…" he winked at me again, "…_then it won't be for free_." He was absolutely happy with his solution to get both of us content. "_Please accept it, if it doesn't cause you any discomfort this way_", he asked.

I looked down to James, who was trying not to get his hopes high, though I could see it in his face. I sighed, knowing I had lost.

"_Fine, if you really can't help it_."

"_No I can't_." Mr. Mellark said, coming to the front with a cookie in his right hand. I had to admit, they looked really delicious.

"_Here you are, James_."

"_Thank you, sir!_" I couldn't tell whose smile was wider, Mr. Mellark's or James'.

"_Come on, James, time to get home_", I reminded him.

Mr. Mellark took the few steps to open the door for James and I, Miss Trinket would be pleased by his manners.

"_Thank you, sir_", I repeated James' words. "_Have a nice day, Mr. Mellark_."

"_It's been my pleasure_", he replied. On our silent way back home, I figured out what had been so strange about Mr. Mellark. It was neither his limping nor his kindness, not even his winking. It took me over half an hour to figure out that didn't seem to have judged me by my marital status in connection with James, whereas most people would have assumed he was my son, and treated me just like that. I got the feeling that Mr. Mellark was different.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything The Hunger Games trilogy. All rights belong to Suzanne Collins. I merely write for my own entertainment._

_AN: Thanks again to my marycontrary82 who is helping me with my constant indecisiveness on some things of the plot. And because she is a fantastic beta. _

The weeks of winter have passed by in almost no time. The biggest thing to happen was Miss Mason's new engagement at a New York theatre. I don't think I have ever seen Miss Trinket happier than the day Miss Mason left, but me, I was truly sorry that she is gone. I had gotten used to her and her odd personality, and despite her way of so easily offending others and her loose tongue, she had been one of the most tolerable people at the theatre.

Her previous role was filled by Delilah Cartwright, who also took her place in our wardrobe, and for the first few weeks, I kind of became her confidante (against my will). Honestly, I have surely not encouraged her, only listened to her rant, especially about her new beau. I think Thom was his name. Now and then I just inserted "_Oh really!_" or some random question. But maybe that was the reason she was friends with me. Yes, friends. After two weeks she was on a first-name basis with me.

The only people that were allowed to do that until now were Rue and Sae, but they were family … kind of. Delly (Delilah's nickname), was easy to get along with. And since I was considered her friend, I had been invited to her birthday party. She decided to have a lawn party at her parents' house, to which I was now headed. It was a nice spring day; a bit windy, but not too chilly, and I had chosen a coat, but obviously misjudged the weather because of the clouds.

Thankfully, Rue had agreed to watch James _again_. Nevertheless, I didn't intend to stay for too long. It wasn't my cup of tea, and although I had not dared to refuse the invite … it couldn't do any harm, could it?

I had known Delly's father was somewhat rich. I couldn't recall what exactly he did, (she must have told me, I am sure) but I had not expected such a big house in this area. It was ostentatious, to say the least.

Once the servant had set aside my coat, I was led to the garden in the back of the house. It really was a nice place, surrounded by a few middle-high trees, with some smaller tables beneath and a lot of bushes. Though I knew I was 15 minutes early, there were already at least 10 people gathered. There were two ladies from the musical whom I barely knew, and four gentlemen also. There was also Miss Undersee, the daughter of a former preacher who was transferred to the poorer part of Twelve at his own request, as well as some people whom I had never seen. I wondered if the mysterious Thom was among them.

To my surprise, I noticed Mr. Mellark, the baker, resting on one of the benches among the bushes. I didn't even know Delly was acquainted with him, but of course, I only listened to half of what she said. It was strange to see him outside of the bakery, without his apron, but I had to admit his grey suit fit him as well, though he looked rather like a salesman than a baker.

Eventually, Delly spotted me and greeted me happily. After that, she took a short look around, making sure there were no guests she had to take care of, and took me to a rose bush, so we would be out of earshot, I guess.

"_Isn't it beautiful? My father planted it last year._" She said it loud enough to not raise any suspicions about our behavior. I was sure this was not what she wanted to talk about. I was proven right when she lowered her voice, pretending to study a leaf. "_I'm sure you know that I can only tell you this in secret, but when Peeta heard that you were coming he immediately asked for a seat by your side!_" She smiled and winked at me, and then she hurried over to an elderly woman who had just arrived, leaving me speechless.

Great, just when I thought any teasing about possible suitors stopped with Miss Mason's departure, Delly was partaking in this, too. Not to mention, I couldn't even remember anyone named Peeta.

I made my way over to my colleagues to join in their conversation about Mr. Abernathy's newest idea.

"_But no one would want to see to see a play that they have not heard of_", Mr. Johnson argued. He was a man in his late twenties who played the male counterpart to my role.

"_Mr. Abernathy knows the business well enough to assess if it is worth a try. It's on a trial basis for two performances. There's not much that can go wrong_", I replied. For as many heated discussions as I have with him (some even called it yelling) about certain things, like the silly dresses selected by Miss Trinket, I trust him when it comes to choosing of future plays. "_And there were people saying just the same thing about 'The Shop Girls,' which is, as you know, our most successful long running play_."

_And you have been in one of them_, I think to myself. Suddenly he seemed to remember this also.

"_How could one have guessed that a __**British**_ _musical_ …?" He began, but was interrupted by the announcement for the refreshments.

"_Good afternoon, Miss Everdeen. May I have the pleasure of escorting you to the table?_" When I turned around, Mr. Mellark stood behind me, offering me his arm.

"_Good evening to you too, Mr. Mellark."_I responded. I was hardly used to this kind of chivalry, but agreed, taking his offered arm out of sheer politeness, with my best fake smile. We followed the others to the tables under the trees, some of them walking arm in arm like myself and Mr. Mellark, I could not help but feel uncomfortable with it. Not because he was limping (well maybe party because of that), but mostly because of the gesture itself. He pushed my chair into the table and took the seat beside me. Considering he could not be the elderly gentleman who was deep in conversation with the lady to his left, it was of no question who Peeta was.

"_Thank you, sir_". These are the words I have spoken to him most often since he had held the door open for me so many times at the bakery. He always came to the front just to do that. If he did so with other customers, I didn't happen to know, but it was one of the reasons why I had always tried to hurry home from my weekly appearances at his shop. We also had barely talked, as I tried to keep it to the minimum of politeness.

There was something about the way that he acted around me; I couldn't name it, but it made me uneasy. He had been too kind, too friendly, too cheery, TOO EVERYTHING to not be regarded with suspicion. And since Mr. Mellark asked Delly to be seated beside me, I could finally take a guess why. Though he hadn't done anything inappropriate, just been overly polite, I didn't want this kind of thing; a real suitor. Sure, I sometimes got flowers from men beside Mr. Stone, but no one had seriously taken interest in me in that way. Although I did not want to encourage this infatuation, I did not know how to decline in a refined manner. He was no Mr. Stone, and did not deserve that behaviour. However, I did not intend to play happy family, ever.

"_May I help you with the lobster salad?_" Mr. Mellark said, bringing me back from my thoughts. "_Or would you rather have one of those sandwiches?_" Lobster salad. Well, one could say Delly's father spared neither cost nor effort for his daughter's party.

"_I'll be perfectly fine with a sandwich, thank you_", I answered politely. I have never eaten lobster before and wasn't about to try it out now. Fortunately, the servant arrived when I finished to offer a part of the jellied chicken and to bring me a cup of black tea.

"_It's pleasure to meet you not solely at the theatre._" Judging by the way he shifted slightly in his seat, he felt just as uneasy as I right now.

"_Oh, you have been at The Shop Girl recently?"_ I said lamely, stating the obvious, as I hadn't had any other performance in about a month.

"_Yes, you have such a captivating voice, I … I mean …"_ He said, blushing a little. Hearing him stutter a little was a first, I think. Usually, he was the one that make small-talk easy, as far as I could tell from my weekly appearances at the bakery.

"_I mean, when you sing, even the birds stop to listen to listen_", he murmured, finally managing to end his sentence. His cheeks were still tinted pink, but he continued to look right at me.

"_Thank you, sir_", I answered silently, concentrating on my sandwich. Suddenly, Roquefort cheese became very interesting. I've never received a compliment that was this simple and yet so beautiful. There was a long silence afterwards.

"_I am truly sorry to have embarrassed you_", he eventually said. I looked up at him, his blue eyes met my gaze. He smiled apologetically.

"_No, no_", I insisted, "_It's just … I receive quite a few compliments a week but this one was …"_ I struggled with the words, trying to find something adequate.

"_Unusual?,_" he tried to help me out kindly. Obviously he got back to being himself.

"_In a positive way, yes_" I agreed. "_I'm not good with words, I might add._"

"_That's a funny thing for an actress_", he joked and offered me some slices of apple.

"_Maybe_", I said vaguely. Since the first gentlemen had retreated inside (probably to have a smoke with Mr. Cartwright), I waited until Mr., Mellark had also finished his meal, then excused myself, mumbling something about freshening up.

After my urgent escape, lest he choose to keep me company, I just stood in the hallway, taking deep breaths. I really had to figure out how to handle that.

Just then, Delly came by, a big smile on her face.

"_Please don't tell me you are already leaving! I just asked the servants to bring out the gramophone for a dance or two_" she told me, a slight reproach in her voice.

"_Oh no, I just needed a moment alone._" It was close to truth anyway.

On our way out, she chatted happily about her conversation with Thom, and how he complimented her on her outfit, which was a light yellow dress. It was actually quite nice. Thom must be the gentleman coming towards us as we enter the garden again. He is a tall gentleman with black hair and a huge smile on his face.

He asked Delly for a dance, which she gladly accepted, but she began to look around for someone to keep me company at once.

"_I'm fine; really_", I assured her and strolled towards a bench among the bushes, where I felt kind of safe. A waltz was already sounding off the gramophone, and soon I watched Delly and Thom, joined by others.

"_May I_?" Mr. Mellark had once again approached me without me noticing it. I nodded and he sat down beside me.

"_Aren't you fond of dancing, Miss Everdeen?_"

"_To be honest, no_", I told him.

"_But everybody is_" he answered. Nearly everybody at the party was moving across the lawn.

"_I am not everybody, Mr. Mellark_" I replied with a smile. "_And I don't see you dancing, either._" He stiffened, and it was just then that I realised I had unintentionally made fun of him, when I was just making conversation.

"_Oh, I am sorry, Mr. Mellark, I didn't mean to … I didn't intend to. I mean, you … your …_" I stuttered. Yes, I was definitely never going to a party again, and make a fool out of myself.

"_Well, I __understand_." There was bitterness in his voice that went along with a deadpan face.

"_No, you don't. I didn't mean to offend or mock you because of your … leg."_ Still a bit too straight to the point, but still, it was an improvement in comparison to my former rudeness. "_I was just trying to hint that you don't seem too fond of dancing either, not because it might be not as elegant as Delly's._" Which was hard to do, Delly was one of the best dancers I knew. My attempt to save the day was just awkward. "_I can hardly express to you how truly sorry I am. I ask for your forgiveness, Mr. Mellark._"

He said nothing for a while, and the longer it lasted, the more I squirmed. When I finally couldn't take it any longer, I stood up, intending to leave. He grabbed my wrist.

"_Please don't, Miss Everdeen._" I smiled bashfully and sat down again.

"_I think I overreacted. I'm sorry I misjudged you._" Wait … I unintentionally insulted him and now he is apologizing to me?

"_So why don't you then? I think you could do fine._"

"_Are you asking me for a dance?_" He asked, a small smile creeping up on his face.

"_No, as I already mentioned, I'm no dancer. I just wanted to point out, that dusk is falling if you are afraid it might be not pleasing to the eye. Furthermore, there are some ladies over there which I'm very sure would be pleased to have a dance with you in the twilight._" I didn't know where those words came from, but I felt the urge to cheer him up, even though the damage was already done.

"_What if I originally intended to ask you?_"

"_Then I could hardly refuse, could I? But I have to warn you, I will never be close to being as graceful as Delly._" He chuckled.

"_So may I have this dance?_" He even bowed. I accepted. I would still have to figure out how to make myself clear later on; to let him know that I would never allow any romance in my life. I had expected him to perform the steps as best as he could manage, no more than a little back and forth. By the way he moved, even with the bad leg, I was sure he at least must have known the steps at some point in his life, though he couldn't follow them properly anymore.

It was a bit awkward at the beginning and took us some time to find a rhythm, but it wasn't half as unsteady as one would expect. I needn't be afraid of making a wrong step or tripping on his feet, it didn't matter for now. Its imperfection made me it perfect.

I left after the dance, even though I had enjoyed it, making excuses to Mr. Mellark and Delly, for I had promised James that I would be back before evening and read his new book to him. At home, Rue handed me a letter from a Mr. Gregory Bukowski, which I set aside for later paying it no heed, since it was now time for Peter Rabbit's adventures in Mr. McGregor's garden.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything The Hunger Games trilogy. All rights belong to Suzanne Collins. I merely write for my own entertainment._

_AN: I know, I know, the update has been overdue. Real life has been busy recently, I won't promise but I will try to update more often._

_Thanks to all those, who put this story on their favorite or alerts list or review, it really makes me smile :)_

_Thanks also to my lovely beta marycontrary82, I really appreciate your help and all your feedback!_

* * *

I was waiting impatiently for Mr. Bukowski in the small restaurant next to Sae's grocery store. It was quite new, and from what I heard from Miss Mason, often the place to "date," if you wanted to have a talk in private without having your family around watching yourself and your suitor. Quite ironic, really, to have to be under public surveillance to be private. I guess that is why Mr. Bukowski had decided it would be better to meet at Mrs. Saxon's. This way we would be undisturbed by the little one and without raising the suspicions of Mrs. Flickerman and everyone else if we had met at my home. Steam was rising from my mug of hot coffee, yet it was yet untouched. I was pretty early; because of my appointment with him, I couldn't bear to stay at home a minute longer since I had finished with my daily duties. As much as I didn't want to be there, I needed to hear about what Mr. Bukowksi had written to me a week ago.

Being confronted with the situation that I had imagined, sometimes even wished for, over and over again, for the last three years made me uneasy. Of course I had always wanted to know the man who fathered James, the man my little sister had fallen for without me even noticing it. I had imagined a range of scenarios, considered different types of gentlemen, and moreover, how I might approach them. In my imagination, I had always been confident and able to handle the situation, despite my fears of the possible loss of my little one, of what was left of Prim. But now I was just confused about how to feel and what to say. Every word that I wanted to tell him, that had been carefully chosen in my head was now wiped clean.

I couldn't concentrate; I even recited some passages of Moliere's play to calm me down, but I was still fidgeting in my lap fearing what might happen. The longer I waited, the more I wished I hadn't agreed to meet him today. Or ever. James, Rue and I were doing fine, weren't we?

I was only here to listen to what he wanted to tell me; simply to find the answers to the questions that Prim had denied me. But surely that couldn't be the only reason for his request of a meeting. Though I hadn't dared to think about that. Not now, as it might possibly become real. Not now, when it wasn't just a thought that I had in passing, when I was frustrated about something concerning my life with James.

"_Good afternoon, Miss Everdeen_" Mr. Bukowski greeted me, as he crossed the restaurant to approach me. One look at his hair, the same brown locks as James', proved what he claimed to be. Why hadn't I noticed this before? "Because you never took a look at him," I told myself, "He never mattered to you in any way." But he did now. I was definitely facing my nephew's father. I was overcome with sadness when it finally dawned on me that there was no denying the obvious, as I had in the last few days.

"_Good evening to you, too_", I finally choked out, hardly finding the right words for a greeting. I was too overwhelmed.

"_I am happy you found time so soon_", he started. I didn't reply, even though it was rude. I didn't do well with small talk in everyday situations and that certainly wasn't changing under the present circumstances. "I am sure you know what I came to ask from you," he continued. I nodded in reply.

"_It may be unusual to do so now, I am aware_", he admitted, "_but I don't want to deny his existence any longer. James is my son and I feel responsible for him, I want to take care of him as I should have done from the beginning."_

"_But why now_?" My unexpected outburst made his smile falter for a second.

"_Personal issues_", he replied. "_I want to be honest to you, Miss Everdeen, that's the least I owe you for burdening you with this, after all. I will show you that James will be properly looked after ..._"

"_And so you decide out of the blue, after three years without a word or a notice by you? Even when I was in the apothecary! Don't you think I would have appreciated help when he was just a few days old and was having cramps and crying the whole time? I was the one who bought fresh milk daily, changed his diapers in between two scenes of the show and tended to him when he was getting his teeth with only the help of Rue!" _I lowered my voice, suddenly aware that we might be overheard._ "But NOW you decide it is about time to fulfill your father's duties!"_ Speaking of burdens, did he even know, could he even imagine what I had gone through just to keep my little one alive? No matter if I did **just** well enough, but at least I had cared about him from the beginning. "_I managed very well on my own and I'm sure I will do so in future. I have proven that when you never even took notice of him."_ By his reaction, I can guess I have found his weak point. Suddenly I regretted that my anger had gotten the best of me, despite practicing this talk in my head numerous times. However, I didn't feel sorry for my accusations.

"_I understand your … objections_", he said carefully, as if not to anger me any further. "You understand nothing at all," I thought, but stayed silent. After my outburst I felt much calmer. More disciplined, because all my bottled up feelings were finally directed at the right person, the one who could have helped me and simply didn't care enough. Mrs. Saxon appeared, putting a mug in front of Mr. Bukowski, glancing curiously at the both of us.

As if he could read my mind, he said: "_I understand that he needs a father in the end._"

Even I had to admit he had a point. "_Please, Miss Everdeen, I know this whole situation is not easy for you, but please let me tell you my reasons why now. As I mentioned, you of all people deserve an honest answer._" He waited until I nodded before he went on. "_To speak frankly, at first, mother was against taking him into our home. She did not want to people to get the wrong impression about our family. She never liked your sister, whom she happened to meet sometimes at the apothecary. When I told her about the pregnancy mother even accused her of lying, saying that it probably wasn't mine. I would have never believed that, though._"

Neither did I. Prim lying down with one man had been as bad as it is, but she hadn't been one of those girls. Doing what she did must have meant something to her. I would never allow myself to think otherwise.

"_I won't repeat anything else, one shall not speak ill of the dead. She wanted to disown me, if I dared to marry Primrose against her wishes, and made me propose to Josephine, whose family she approved of and considered as well situated as our own, which I only agreed to after she ..._" He swallowed hard.

"_And so you did as she wished_", I muttered bitterly to myself after a few seconds of silence.

"_And so I did_", he agreed, "_It had been a tough choice though. Be assured I really wanted to marry Primrose. I was in love with her. We were even secretly engaged. I never wanted James to happen this way, I never wanted this to happen to her, and I wanted to spare her the treatment she got when her pregnancy got too obvious._" Then why had he made her do this, why tarnish her reputation is the first question that crossed my mind, but I did not dare to ask. No matter what, I would always believe he convinced her, that she didn't know any better. I kept silent, though his stare told me to say something. Realizing I wouldn't, he continued with his story.

"_I thought that mother would get used to the situation, to settle with things at least when the baby was born. Despite her pride, family always came first for her, and I thought if she saw him that maybe could accept him. I thought this might be the best chance to change her mind. She knew I was never giving up on the apothecary, and so she used it against me. Knowing it would be hard to do so, I also made my brother support my decision. I wanted her to agree because if she disowned me, I couldn't have been able to afford a living for our little family. You see, I have my family's blessings now. I can support him as I wanted from the day he was born."_

"_That seems like some noble thought, sir, with all due respect, but you could have managed just as I did. And I wouldn't have refused the both of you any help. And you could have sent word to me afterwards, or considered taking him after your marriage_", I said unwilling to accept his explanation. He was just seeing the solution in black and white, but there were so many shades in between, so many things he could have done and was too blind or too unwilling to do them. I got the feeling that he truly cared about her, but was too naïve when it happened. Maybe he was hoping that everything would turn out to be good in the end, simply not recognizing that life was no fairy tale. I even considered that he would never be willing to lead a life below the merchant's standards. Whatever his reasons were, I wouldn't be the one he would confess them to.

"_Josephine does not like the thought of raising him. She is afraid of people's reactions. You and she are the only people who know that he is mine. It took months to make her agree, and the minute she finally gave in I sent the letter to you_", he said.

"_I appreciate your honesty_", I replied to break the awkward silence. "_But you must accept that I need a few days to consider this. I am aware you mean well and I agree that he needs a father, but …_"

"But he is my only family left; you cannot take him from me. Of course I was unnerved at times. Of course, I could never be the family he needed to grow up. Of course sometimes I had wished he wasn't with me, when things got complicated, but you have no right to!" I thought to myself. But Mr. Bukowski had every right to ask this of me and he knew it. His compassionate smile seemed genuine, though. I swallowed hard, my former calmness now being substituted by realization and fear. The fear that I would lose my little one in the end. Even if I asked for a few days, we both knew what I had to do if I wanted the best for him. No more denying, no more pretending like I had done in the last few days.

"_I understand your resistance, Miss Everdeen_." Once again, I did not reply and we parted soon after. My coffee was yet untouched.

My pace came close to running on my way to the theatre. I was lucky that it was only dress rehearsal for Moliere's play tomorrow. When the first raindrops started to fall, I had the feeling the day could not get any worse. When I had left home, it was barely cloudy so I hadn't even thought about taking an umbrella with me. But the dark grey I hadn't noticed until now wouldn't just be a simple rain shower, but a heavy one.

Muttering a silent curse that I was neither close enough to home, nor to the theatre, nor anywhere else, for that matter, to let the rain pass safely. The streets were nearly empty except for me and a few other people, whose figures I could barely make out in the grey mass of rain disturbing my view.

I cursed again. I could run home, change and grab my umbrella, and be late or I could run to the theatre like this and risk catching a cold. The hem of my coat was already dripping wet because the porch didn't offer enough space to be a proper and dry shelter.

After a few minutes, the rain was still falling, but not as heavy as before. I would get soaked on my way, but I did not dare wait any longer. I wasn't in the mood for one of Miss Trinket's lectures, which I would for sure have to endure if I didn't show up on time.

Gathering my skirt so that it would not get too wet and dirty, I took a deep breath and then hurried off as fast as the muddy and slippery ground would allow, my mind still occupied with Mr. Bukowski's wish. Once or twice I nearly tripped, I could already see the building in distance when my left foot slipped to the side and I felt my ankle sprain. Two strong arms steadied my waist from behind and fortunately kept me from falling.

"_Thank you, sir_", I had already said when I turned around to see my savior, carefully putting weight on my left side. _Damnit, my ankle!_ And to top that off, I was looking straight into the smirking face of Mr. Cato Stone. _Could this day could get any worse_?

"_At your service, ma'am_", Mr. Stone replied, mimicking a bow. "_What a pleasure to see you!_"

"_Nice to see you as well, Mr. Stone."_ My lie couldn't have been said any frostier. "_If you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to." _I nodded towards the big Capitol sign hanging from the entrance.

"_I'm sure of it."_ His smile made me uneasy, I kind of felt like prey that was being followed by some lonesome wolf until he got a chance to pounce. His eyes wandered up and down by body, scrutinizing my appearance.

"_So, uhm, have a good day!_", I said, trying to keep my pace steady, not wanting to hobble and seem weak-weak enough to encourage a wolf to attack his prey. Obviously he could not be tricked this easy.

"_Please let me help you, Miss Everdeen!" _His kind voice was betrayed by the hungry look in his eyes.

"_I will get along, thank you for your consideration_", I said through gritted teeth, sternly heading on, not glancing at him. No, never he was going to touch me if I could help it. _Just four more buildings_.

"_Miss Everdeen, don't be so shy_." The wolf tried to corner me, going on by my side.

"_Mr. Stone, I am neither shy nor do I need any help." _He did not back off. _Three buildings._ He stepped in my way but I did not halt, instead stepping around him.

"_Katniss_", he reasoned, grabbing my arms and forcing me to face him. I tried to free them immediately, no such luck. _Where was everyone when you needed them?_

"_I did not know we had agreed to go by forenames now, had we, MISTER Stone? So could you now leave me on my own? As I mentioned, I have business to attend to. And I am sure you don't want to be outside in this rain any more than I do._" Once again I tried to get rid of his grip unsuccessfully. Panic rose inside of me though I tried to stay calm. The wolf was persistent and not about to let go. I knew it.

"_Please get your hands off me, Mister Stone_!"

"_Now now, don't be so shy, Katniss, everything is going to be fine…_" His voice was a dangerous whisper as he tried to drag me towards the alley between two houses. It wasn't rough, but very determined, and thanks to the slippery ground he could easily drag me there if I couldn't free myself.

"_I believe_ t_he lady asked to be left alone!_" Thank god, finally there was someone around to rescue me.

"_It's none of your business, Mellark_", Mr. Stone muttered but did not let me go. I backed away and he relinquished his grip. "_I hope to see you soon, Miss Everdeen_!" With that, he finally walked away.

"_Are you alright, Miss Everdeen? He didn't …, did he_?" Eventually Mister Mellark arrived where I still stood, leaning against the wall, taking deep breaths. He had an even more difficult time trying not to trip, due to his leg. He was steadying himself with a cane today, his other hand occupied with holding an umbrella. His brows were furrowed, his lips just barely visible as a small, pale line.

"_No, no, he didn't, you … you were just in time_", I whispered breathlessly, allowing myself to close my eyes for a few seconds. "_Thank you so much, Mr. Mellark, I cannot thank you enough for … sparing me those unpleasantries._"

When I reopened them, he was still an arm's length away, eyeing me cautiously, seemingly unsure about what to do. Was he sensing my uneasiness concerning him? That, after I became well aware he had taken a liking to me, I had sent Rue on purpose to get our bread this week? Just to avoid meeting him, since I couldn't figure out how to say nicely that this was not mutual? He was no Mr. Stone; Mr. Mellark deserved to be treated as a gentleman. I was able to handle Mr. Stone and other suitors because I simply did not care. But somehow, I did not know how to not hurt Mr. Mellark's feelings. He was ever so kind, and meant no harm at all. Beside his affections he also had a calming aura. The kind of man one should consider marrying because one just knew he would always treat you well. If one was considering Marriage. Which I wasn't.

He was still looking at me, his face still wearing a concerned expression.

"_Would you … would you like me to walk you to the Capitol? I won't be offended, if you refuse after what just happened, but maybe my umbrella and I could keep you from the rain and Mr. Stone_", he said, finally breaking the silence. However, he seemed to know exactly what was going on in my head, about any objections I was having. And there was no way to avoid being close to him, if I agreed. My little encounter with Mr. Stone wasn't over yet; he could still be anywhere, waiting for his next move, trying to ambush me. It was just three more buildings. It could be safe to walk on my own, but it also could not.

"_I'd like that very much right now_", I stressed the last two words making my point, indicating it was just today, just this situation, and nothing else. He offered me his arm with the umbrella which I took gratefully. It was just the two of us in the rain, both limping, both silent.


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything The Hunger Games trilogy. All rights belong to Suzanne Collins. I merely write for my own entertainment._

_A/N: Thanks to all of you, who alerted, favorited and reviewed this story. You make my day :)_

_Thanks also again to Mary for betaing (superfast), a lot of patience and her feedback, that convinced me to extend the last scene. Yep, she's a wonderful beta._

I had allowed myself one week to keep him; to spend as much time as possible with James, and enjoy my last days with him as best as I could. Four precious days of my last week had already passed much faster than I wanted. Rue and I had decided to prepare all of James' favourite meals. We made those last days something to remember for both of us. I spent much more time at home, partly due to my sprained ankle. The main role in "_The imaginary Invalid_" had been passed to an overjoyed Delly. I was told to rest until I could walk again and did not look like a hobbling crow. At least, that had been Mr. Abernathy's choice of words, subsequently earning him a reprimanding look from Miss Trinket.

My ankle was only slightly swollen now and the formerly blue bruise had been replaced by a fading purple-yellowish something. I could walk again, but it still hurt a little when I did not go easy on it. However, there was no way I was missing out on being the Shop girl tomorrow; never was I going to allow myself to be replaced in that.

James was sitting at the kitchen table, painting something with his new crayons that he refused to show me yet. "_Tis surprise, Tatty_", he had told me earnestly, and I had given up on trying to get a glimpse, not wanting to spoil the surprise for him just because I simply couldn't wait.

So I occupied myself by baking a batch of cookies from a simple recipe Sae had given me. So simple that even _I_ could do it if I followed the instructions, she had assured me. It was hard not to check on them every minute, while they were in the oven, but Sae had specifically instructed me not to. I was excited and a bit proud of myself that I made the dough all on my own and it actually tasted good - unlike that bread all those years ago.

James knew he was going to be with his father and I was disappointed he had taken the news so lightly. While I still couldn't figure out my own feelings; sometimes I was being selfishly sad about his parting, but most times I was happy, because now things would be better for James. Now and then the guilt over feeling happy started to creep in, because deep down, I knew it would make some things easier for Rue and I.

James acted normal. I thought maybe he didn't really understand that I would not be around anymore, only a visitor, and only when his father allowed me to come to see him. That was a point we hadn't discussed yet, but I was positive Mr. Bukowski would not deny me my wish.

Still deep in thought, a terrible smell suddenly invaded my nostrils and got me back from my thoughts. "Damnit!," I thought to myself as I hurried to fetch the baking tray out of the oven, even though I knew it was already it was too late.

"_Do no look like tookies, Tatty_?" James had left his painting to appear beside me, peeking over the edge of our hearth to get a look at my single baking tray. There lay the sad remains of my cookies, now resembling small pieces of coal.

"_I know_", is all I said. "_But for now, would you be so kind as to finish the painting for me?_" While he was getting settled again at the table, Rue came in, sniffing in the air. Before she could say anything, I remarked, "_No, I promise I won't try ever again, Rue._" She gave me one of her rare grins, while undoing her bonnet. I hadn't expected her back so early; it was late afternoon and she usually did not return until sunset.

"_I guess I am going to make dinner today."_

"_It's only a stew, I think I can manage_", I scolded jokingly. Actually, I really disliked cooking, not only because of my lack of talent, but because, to me, it had never been anything more than necessity to have hot food to eat. I should expand that knowledge to baking once and for all, I think. Fortunately, I was able to make simple dishes that one could stomach, easy meals such as stew or scrambled eggs. Most days, Rue was the one cooking; she was a better cook than I would probably ever in my lifetime.

"_No, I think you pushed your luck enough today, but maybe you could get some bread to go along with, I'm really sorry I forgot_", she said ruefully, looking down on the floor. Sometimes she reverted to the behaviour she had to use around townspeople.

"_No, it's fine. I know there are a lot of things you have to care of. Speaking of which, how are Julie and Christopher?_" Two of her younger siblings had the measles and she was now going there every day to help her mother. Even though I told her it would be easier to stay there, and I would get along by myself, she came back every evening.

"_They are getting better, thank you. Mother is afraid, little Catherine did catch it_." Catherine was the youngest of five, about two years old if I remember correctly.

"_Make sure to leave some meat and vegetables to take with you tomorrow, we won't need as much_", I told her. I seldom got to see her family, but Rue had spoke of them often, and since Rue cared about them, I did also. They would never come here, for obvious reasons, and I usually didn't go into the poorer parts of town, where it was unsafe for any woman to be out on the streets alone (especially me, since I was white, and surely not after what happened with Cato Stone four days ago). Even Rue was usually escorted by her eldest brother or her father to the borders until it was safe enough to go on her own, especially if it was getting late.

"_How much bread is left? Maybe it will last until tomorrow_", I said hopefully. If I could delay it until tomorrow, I could ask Rue to do it again. Still, I was unsure how to handle Mr. Mellark. Even more so now, after he spared me … _that_. It was one of the reasons I had tried to bake the cookies myself.

"_Tatty, Tatty!"_ James exclaimed excitedly, standing at the chair, before Rue could reply, holding up the piece of paper he had been drawing on.

"_James, sit down!",_ I admonished, but got closer in order to finally take a look. I could make out some red lines (that could be a human), something yellow (possibly the sun), a flower (?), and a green line across the paper marking the horizon.

"_Oh, that looks lovely, little one_!", I said, although I wasn't sure if my guesses were correct, I did not dare ask, as he was so proud of his work.

"_Just enough left to cut maybe one or two slices_", Rue told me from behind, holding up the rest of bread, which she had retrieved from the kitchen drawer. And there was no denying the fact that we had to get a new one. And that I was the one that would have to do it. The sooner I got it over with, the better. I should probably leave immediately, if I wanted to make it in time before the bakery closed down. I was resigned to my fate.

"_James, I have to go now, but I will be back soon, will you listen to Rue in the meanwhile?_" I asked. He was already busy creating a new picture. I smoothed his brown locks gently, not wanting to distract him anymore, as he was obviously concentrated on the task of choosing between the two blue crayons, one held in each hand. Sincerity was written all over his face, from the carefully furrowed brows down to his tongue, which was stuck between his lips while he looked first at one, then at the other. He didn't take any further notice of me other than nodding absent-mindedly. No, I guess he wouldn't even have noticed I was gone if I had not told him.

Once outside, I briefly considered heading downtown, in the other direction, to Mr. Hallifax' bakery instead. But no, I was acting ridiculous by favoring the person who had mistreated Rue over the nice baker, just because he showed affection and I simply didn't know what to do about it. I shook my in disbelief that it truly had been an option for me.

So I set a steady pace, heading straight, breathing calmly, trying to get the same feeling that I got when I was on stage, acting confident as I normally did. But I was far from my daily routine; I was far from behaving normally these days. I was about to lose my nephew, and I was on my way to see Mr. Mellark, whose infatuation I had no idea how to discourage.

Mr. Mellark, who always treated me kindly. Who held the door open for me, even if there were other customers to which he had to throw an apologetic smile. Who had danced with me in the twilight, which I had agreed to for all the wrong reasons. Who had helped me out of my situation with Mr. Stone a few days ago. I should have thanked him afterwards, not just stuttered those words when we parted at the Capitol's back door, but a real thanks. Instead, I was considering avoiding him at all costs just because I was feeling uncomfortable. Not wanting to encourage him any more than I already did by accepting this dance and his company.

I stood across the street, staring at the wooden sign that said, "Mellark's bakery" in red letters. One minute passed, then another. There were only few people on the street to disturb my view.

I drew in a deep breath, and finally, step by step, still kind of convincing myself, I made my way towards the entrance. The cold metal of the door handle felt calming. I could still turn around and leave. But when my arrival was announced by the tiny bell above the door, there was no going back. Damnit, I just wanted to buy a loaf of bread then go back home; I shouldn't behave as if I was doing anything wrong. _Get yourself together_!, I reminded myself.

"_Just one moment, please_!", Mr. Mellark shouted from somewhere in the back. I took my chance to glance around. The display was nearly empty; I was probably the last customer of the day. Still, in the display lay five or six breads, a couple of rolls and – thank god – three sugar coated cookies. I decided to take all of them, despite the fact that I would normally consider them too expensive. I still wanted to make our last days together something to remember for James, and my efforts had gone to waste, literally.

When he finally entered the sales area, Mr. Mellark was wiping his hand dry, leaving no traces on his white, obviously fresh, apron.

"_Oh, Miss, Everdeen, what a nice surprise_", he said with a genuine smile "_How may I serve you?" _His words were not giving away anything.

"_I know I should have come here earlier, I … I cannot put into words how grateful I am for what you … have done for me", _it was nearly a whisper. Suddenly, I felt ashamed for sending Rue, for not thanking him earlier, for receiving his kindnesses and not acknowledging them. Despite my wish to not hurt him, I had just done that, and it was bothering me more than I wanted to admit to myself.

"_You are welcome, Miss Everdeen._"

"_I really am_", I repeated, "_for everything_." Maybe I felt even more embarrassed now that I had acknowledged it. This was not going as planned at all, and panic flooded my veins. The urge to flee this awkward situation became overwhelming, but I made myself stand still.

"_Miss Everdeen?_" I hadn't realized I had been scrutinizing the floor beneath my feet for quite some time while Mr. Mellark was still behind the display, still smiling kindly and waiting patiently for my order.

"_I'm sorry, I'm … I'm a bit distracted these days_", I murmured and while that was true, my whole world was focused on the current situation.

"_Are you feeling well, Miss Everdeen? You look very pale_", he asked, concerned, his blue eyes watching me carefully.

"_Everything is just fine, Mr. Mellark_", I answered coldly, trying to get back to my confident self,

"_Oh, I'm sorry, I really didn't want to offend you_." His smile faded immediately. Why was talking to him so much more difficult than it was with other people? All I had wanted to say was that I was not myself, but I got the feeling that I had basically yelled at him that it was none of his business and I was sorry about that.

"_Please don't get me wrong, Mr. Mellark. There is just one thing I hate to do, but must do and there is nothing I can do about this and I shouldn't because it will be better in the end_", I sighed. It felt strangely good to get it off my chest, even if I wasn't precisely telling him what the "it" was.

"_If I may help you…?"_ he offered, a bit too eager for my liking.

"_I think you helped me enough recently_", I interjected, trying to find a light tone. "_But I think I might have a special order. I mean, if you can do it._"

"_I can do anything for you_", he answered boldly. If possible, his smile got even wider. His words only made me frown. I didn't know what to say and instead just stared at him. Then he blushed, maybe because he had meant something else. I hoped he didn't mean it.

"_I … I mean … I.._", he struggled, obviously as speechless as I was, as if it just dawned on him what his line suggested.

"_Mr. Mellark!_", I said, wanting to distract him so he wouldn't delve further into _that_ topic.

"… _never m …meant to say…", _he still stuttered, obviously embarrassed. It was a good sign, wasn't it? That he hadn't meant to imply any affection for me.

"_Mr. Mellark!_", I tried again, this time a bit louder. Before the situation got even more embarrassing, I wanted to ask if he could make me some cheese buns.

"_I didn't want to imply anything, just that I could bake anything you wished", _he finally managed, surprisingly without stuttering. Though he was smiling again, the anxious look in his eyes gave him away. Maybe he had not wanted to say that, but I was sure he meant what he had said.

"_I do hope so_." Well, I guess I finally made my point, didn't I? But a strange feeling remained; of what, I could not tell. "_But concerning the order, I wondered if you could make some cheese buns for the day after tomorrow"_, I said politely.

"_Cheese buns?"_ His brows furrowed.

"_Yes, cheese buns? I remember white buns with a cheesy filling, and some herbs. I'm not sure, but I think my mother also used some butter in the filling. I cannot tell you what else, unfortunately. I was never been interested when she was making them, but I always loved them."_ The last part I nearly whispered, and why I chose to give him this bit of personal information I could not tell. I seldom spoke about my childhood, of the good times, of times when my father was still alive, of the time when I could still be a child. Mother baked them a few times a year, but only on special occasions like our birthdays and on Christmas Eve. There was only one for each of us, sometimes two for the birthday girl, but no more; we could never afford more.

"_I have to admit I never heard of those, but I will try."_

"_Oh you don't have to, I mean, it would be nice to have those on the last evening, but …"_

"_Miss Everdeen, I said I would try_." I could his old confidence was returning.

"_Thank you_."

After he handed me a loaf of bread (after all, that _was_ why I had come here) and all three cookies, he stepped to the front to hold the door open for me like usual, and locked the door after me, closing the shop for the day. I clutched my basket for dear life, something to hold on to. My mind wasn't focused on James, but on what was probably the strangest and most uneasy encounter I had experienced in a long time.


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything The Hunger Games trilogy. All rights belong to Suzanne Collins. I merely write for my own entertainment._

_A/N: An update, an update! I want to thank you all for your constant support, your reviews, the alerts/favorites, they really keep me going. I'm sorry if updates take longer than I want it to be. For once, I knew absolutely where I was going with this chapter, but couldn't get the words to flow. So I pretty much stared at the blank page for too long. In case you were worrying, I'm not abandoning this and I'm already working on the next chapter._

_Thank you all and have a merry Christmas!_

_And a big shout-out for my beta Mary, who is making sense of whatever confusing lines I write and for all the information she shares with me. She is making my writing (and hence the story) so much better! Have a merry Christmas, dear!_

* * *

Her last two days with James had flown by. Today was the day. I had tried to fall asleep but memories kept her awake. Hour after hour passed, my head filled with memories and all the things that I needed to tell his father.

That fact that James preferred apples slices over raisins in his porridge. The fact that blue was his favourite colour. The fact that he despised orange. Or that his biggest wish was to own a hobby horse. That pursing his lips usually meant he was up to no good. That his middle name was Arthur after my belated father. That he was only to be called by his first and middle name when he was in trouble. That he needed a bedtime story every night because he couldn't fall asleep without one. That his favourite story was the one with Peter Rabbit. And most of all, I needed to teach his father our lullaby. Someone had to sing it to my little one when I could not. So many things I should have done and yet so many things that I hadn't; that was probably my biggest regret.

It was still early in the morning (barely dawn) and only a solitary bird had started to sing. Rue and James were both still asleep, but I had eventually given in to my restlessness and prepared breakfast. No porridge today for James, just the remaining cheesebuns that I had fetched from the bakery yesterday.

I could tell Mr. Mellark had really tried his best (as he pointed out numerous times) while excusing himself for not doing it better. I mean, they smelled delicious and tasted even better; I did have to admit that they were fluffier than my mother's, but they weren't what I had wanted. No question about it, they were fantastic cheesebuns, but not those of my childhood memories.

Perhaps I should just accept that it was what it was. A childhood memory of better days, when the cheesy smell would linger in our house the day before whatever occasion they were being baked for, teasing us. Mother would always put the tray on the highest board in the kitchen drawer. Once, before my birthday -it must have been my seventh, I think- I was so impatient that I climbed on a chair in the middle of the night. I only wanted to take one bite so I could last until the morning.

Fortunately the kitchen was illuminated sufficiently by the moon shining through the window, so I could at least see the outlines of everything. I tiptoed so that I could barely touch the tray's cold surface and moved it inch by inch, pulling it towards me. But as small as I was, I couldn't hold it over my head and lost my balance. Of course my parents had been startled by the noise. My mother had been fuming and soon rushed off to bed again after she had gathered the buns. It was her way to deal with anger, to bottle up her feelings, sleep it off and be normal again. Without even taking a second glance at whomever had caused the trouble, she just pretended they didn't exist until they got over it. My father had been the one to soothe my crying then. He had been the one to lay me beside Prim and sing silently, so as to not wake my baby sister, the meadow lullaby until I had fallen asleep again.

Mama's sour mood had vanished overnight as if nothing had happened. Papa had always been protective, always been the one explaining everything around us, making us see things differently from everyone else.

I fed the stove another piece of firewood to get it going. So the chill of the morning that had stiffened my limbs would soon be gone. Our stove was old, covered with specks of rust and age here and there, it was probably the same one my great-aunt had had installed when she moved in as a young bride many, many years ago. I could not remember Aunt Ruth, but according to my father, she had offered him her home where we had lived with her until her death.

Deciding that my baking skill were sufficient, I knew I could heat them up when I get back from fetching the daily ration of water. We were one of three families still using it; most of our neighbors that had newly built their houses were already connected to the recently installed canal system. Of course we weren't happy to have this luxury and therefore we had to fetch water for everything.

Today I had to go twice. Though, I was strong enough to carry one water-filled bucket in each hand, that was the absolute minimum we needed on a daily basis. Today, though, I wanted James to have a bath before we left. Before I left him. Before he left me. For good.

The old pump shrieked despicably, probably just to annoy me, and I was sure that it was loud enough to wake up everyone in the surrounding houses. I shivered.

When I returned for the second time, Rue and James were both up and we shared a silent meal of cheesebuns that, surprisingly, I had not burned. Also, the rest of the morning was more silent than chatty, Rue and I because we knew what was coming, and James more likely because he sensed we were completely out of it.

That didn't stop him from complaining, though, when I washed his hair, something he absolutely despised, so I was always extra gentle and careful to not accidentally drip any soapy water near his eyes. I must remember to tell this to his father also.

I put him in his Sunday dress clothes, making sure it was spotless and neat, Rue had silently packed his stuff in the meantime into the only small trunk that I owned. When I checked, there wasn't very much in there: a small range of clothes, socks that weren't mended too often, his crayons, his beloved building bricks, and his two favourite books. Not the ark. Rue had probably sensed what I wouldn't allow myself do. It was one of the things that I had reconsidered over and over again these past days, but giving up on the wooden figures carved by my father and the memories they held was not something I could do, not even for my little one.

James' hair has gotten a bit long, but nothing that needed cutting quite yet. I combed it carefully, trying not to tug it. He stood still, his eyes surveying my every movement; his bottom lip was trembling slightly, the sign that something was bothering him that he couldn't figure it out on his own.

"_Tatty?_", he asked. Why his voice had such a cautious tone was hard to tell, was I this far out of my senses that he did not want to trouble me? Was he afraid of my strange behaviour so, being unlike myself?

"_Yes, James?_" I pulled the comb through his locks again, they were still shimmering due to the dampness. Though I did not directly look at him, I felt his blue eyes not leaving my face. He wasn't answering, so I guessed it was up to me.

"_Everything is fine, James. We are making you pretty for your father. You know, we spoke of it yesterday, you and me. We are going to visit your father by noon today and he will take care of you from now on. You will have a new mom and I think maybe another toy or two to play with._" To lighten his mood with the prospect of new toys should have worked, I thought, but his face mirrored what I could not express, did not want to express.

This was perhaps the moment when he finally realized what it meant, I believed. As much as I felt sorry for him, I was selfishly happy that it bothered him. That is, that I was not indifferent, not just anybody to him as it had felt the last days. Despite everything and despite my sorrow and various emotions, it made me smile for the first time in days. A sad one yet which faded after a split second. I wouldn't allow myself to show any emotions, feeling that dealing with it was easier like that.

"_Big boys don't cry_", I told him in what I thought to be a neutral tone, I could not help myself. Not to allow any sadness to overwhelm me was making it easier for me and for him. Because if I let myself, I was not sure I could be strong anymore. A few tears escaped James' eyes though after my answer, or more likely because of it, because I was not his Tatty today. For the first time in his life, I could not bring myself to comfort him and focused on other tasks instead, to distract me, like putting on his shoes and fastening my bonnet. I knew I was acting selfish, I knew he needed me now, but I couldn't be the shoulder to cry on this time. Not if I wanted to be strong.

It was time to go. Rue hugged him one last time and wiped his tears instead of me with a sad smile before she shutting the door behind us, coping much better than I did. I envied her that she could stay here, that I was the one to have to do this task even it was for the better as I told myself on the way.

Today, it was hard to be as indifferent as usual. I could sense that people eyed us curiously, maybe even suspiciously, especially those in my neighbourhood. They never had a high opinion of me and the fact that I nearly had to pull my nephew through the streets with a trunk in my left hand only served to raise any suspicions. I even jumped when I saw rustling curtains at Mr. Flickerman's home, his nosy wife probably observing me from the safety of her own home. Trying to ignore all of this, I also attempted to not notice the whispering, put all my effort to not see the glances passers-by threw me.

Focused on my way ahead, I focused on holding James' hand. Tried to be stage Katniss, which was hard to do without any makeup on. I would not let anyone see me cry, I repeated to myself. Told me inwardly it was for the best. Told me it was the best for him. He was to have a family that I could not offer, never be. Shining bright sun, I just wished it would rain.

The 30 minutes of the walk felt more like hours. I came into territory that I wasn't as familiar with, not like my woods, which I knew like the back of my hand. I knew my way to the apothecary though. Having been here every once in a while, I always used the customer's door, not the back entrance where we came to a halt.

I sank down on eye level with him, not caring about whether or not the hem of my skirts would be covered in dirt. My little boy stood an arm length away with eyes as wide as saucers, a lost look in it. I felt like I was failing him again.

Knowing I shouldn't have treated him the way that had the past hour; it was not his fault that I couldn't cope with it, I was also aware that I could have hardly reacted otherwise. I pulled him close to hug him and as soon as he snuggled into my arms, there was no denying the fact that it had been exactly what he needed.

"_Don't cry, little one, we are going to see each other often and you are living with your Pa and a new Mama, that's the best that could happen to you_", I whispered in his ear to soothe him with what I hoped was a steady voice. Then the door opened and I gave him a reassuring squeeze to make him let go of me.

* * *

I cannot tell how I made my way back, I only knew that I must have managed because I found myself at the door of my house again that day, still suppressing the tears that lingered in my eyes.

Mr. Bukowski had been understanding and patient with James until I could convince him to go with his father, that it was fine. His wife Josephine had stood beside him and pursed her lips tightly, eyebrow raised and looking absolutely unhappy. Her whole demeanor was moderate considering the fact that it was damage to family's reputation as soon as it was known that her husband had an illegitimate child with someone else so much below her own standards.

From her point of view, I couldn't blame her. There was nothing but the hope she would acclimate to the new situation soon after all. James was a lovely child, although he wasn't her own, she had no doubt he would charm his way into her heart as he had with mine the past three years.

Mr. Bukowski had promised me they would do their best to raise him and I had no choice but believe him. We agreed that I would come to see him once every two months for a few hours, not more often, because he was afraid that could give wrong impressions or whatever. Yet I was to see him. I remember to fare them goodbye after my long rant about my nephew's likes and hates. Even then I thought my voice was dull, mechanic, motionless. Everything after I left the door with a speechless James was blurry in my memory. His blue eyes staring blank at me before the door closed were imprinted on my soul.

Rue was gone when I returned and as much as I loved her, I was happy about it. I needed time on my own. A lot of time. The house was in a deadly, unwelcoming silence. There was nothing but silence.

My view fell on the lonesome carved elephant at my drawer. I don't know if Rue had put it there or if it had been James while I had made breakfast, but it was there, neatly placed in the middle. Right in front of the only photograph I owned of James which was made at his third birthday.

I took it and sat down on my bed just staring at it. All the tears I would have expected to come by now vanished, my eyes dry, there were no tears I could shed. I only felt empty, hollow as I stared at the smiling face of my nephew.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer:**__ I do not own anything The Hunger Games trilogy related. All rights belong to Suzanne Collins. I merely write for my own entertainment and I certainly do not make any profit of it._

_A/N: A big shout-out for my lovely beta Mary for making sense of my writing (which isn't always the easiest thing to do, I guess). Thank you!_

_Thank you all for your continued support, it makes my day and keeps me going! I really don't know if I like the ending, so if you don't mind, tell me what you think!  
_

* * *

_*Two weeks since James has been gone*_

I kept reminding myself that it was the best thing for him, trying to acclimate to this new situation. But it obviously wasn't the best thing for me. I don't think I have ever felt worse in my entire life. No, I don't only think so but I know so. I know I wasn't this … indifferent to everybody and everything; nothing matters anymore. Life is just … well, it just is. I kept pretending.

Performances turned out to be the best and only way to distract me from my grief and hollowness. And since my eyes are no longer permanently red and swollen from when the tears had finally stop falling last week, I needn't quite so much makeup anymore. Ms. Trinket should be delighted, because she already huffed at the sudden increase of powder. Yet I had to admit that I had needed an unhealthy amount of it, though I did not care.

As I should have expected, the townsfolk started gossiping about my reasons, his reasons, Prim's reasons, and the when and the where. I overheard an insult from Mrs. Flickerman at Sae's not just once but twice. Another comment was from Mrs. Baker, saying she knew all along who the father was. I'm pretty sure she would have rubbed it in if that had been the case. But honestly, I couldn't care less about any Mrs. Flickerman or Baker. I noticed it, of course, but I no longer gave much care to my reputation, I only wanted to keep it intact before so that no one considered me a bad influence for James. So I gave them my best icy stare and bit my tongue to keep some of my crumpled dignity. I thought I might never be able to look in the mirror again if I let my temper get the best of me because of those two old snoops.

Rue was scrutinizing me with worry in her eyes again this morning, whereas Delly kept pretending that nothing had happened. I knew she knew. And she knew better than to ask me. It was pretty much walking on ice, avoiding this topic with me, though it was the only one I cared about currently. Sometimes I woke at night, startled, guilt creeping in, because I forgot to sing him his lullaby. Until I remembered. Afterwards I often lay awake for hours. I hardly slept a night through nowadays, fighting sleep deprivation now added to my daily duty.

Despite the incident in the alley and Mr. Mellark's interference, Mr. Stone had the nerve to send me flowers and fruits again. I gave the grapes to Delly, because I still simply couldn't stand to waste any kind of food – and I was neither hungry, nor wanted to accept any kind of gift from this man. I put the roses in the trashbin in the backyard myself as soon as I made my way out if the building. It was the only time when I felt a strange sort of contentment, the outlet for my subliminal anger was a short wake from my sadness.

Occasionally, I bought bread from Mr. Mellark. Since I only came when I expected there to be no other customers there, it was always just the two of us. The silence got awkward, unbearable. I think he came to know parts of what had happened. He always gave me that look, something in between concerned and sad, and I thought to see him struggle more than once about approaching me, judging by his twitching mouth and eyebrows. Just in case, I always shot him a glare in the hopes of keeping his mouth shut, and so far, it had worked.

I could have asked Rue to buy bread for the two of us, not that we needed that much anymore, but it was a chance to stay away from the house, to stay away from the empty shell that I used to call a home. But it was no longer a home; it was lifeless - it became a place to sleep despite all the memories it held for me, that haunted me.

Most of the bread we had I made Rue take to her family anyway before it could get a chance to mold. As I said, I could neither stand to let it go to waste yet had I appetite.

_*One month since he's been gone*_

Mr. Abernathy called me into his office. He was worried, he said. I was standing beside myself. When I excused myself lamely for my obvious bad performances – why else should I come to see him? – he negated it and reminded me to take better care of myself. I thanked him for his consideration, but insisted I was absolutely fine, earning me a disbelieving glance. He dismissed me by saying that he couldn't afford to lose his best actress. I should have been delighted, excited even to be praised by him, which was an absolute rarity -though judging by the smell in his office it was given under a certain amount of white liquor. I didn't feel one bit proud. Instead I just walked out of it, trying to make sense of why he was telling me something that was so unlike him, of what could I do to hide my feelings better.

My mood improved at the prospect of seeing James until three days before my first appointment should have been. Because then I received a letter from Mr. Bukowski, saying this Thursday would be very inconvenient, and if I would like to come and see him next week instead. I agreed. Naturally. I wasn't happy about the delay, but I hardly had a choice, and it was only one week, I kept telling myself, I could do that. It was no longer my decision who James got to meet and when. It hurt to admit to myself that I was no longer an important part of his life. I was to be the aunt he would see every once in a while if I was lucky. No more, no less.

The house felt empty and I hated returning home more and more each day. It's only the stage leading another person's life where I was alive thus I concentrated on my singing and acting even more. Taking extra lessons that I didn't need and Abernathy let me do this despite Miss Trinket's advice that some people would also be happy to spend some time with Mr. Heavensbee. So I have heard. From Delly, of course. One of the few lines that actually caught my attention in her constant chatter that became a background noise to me. She was also thrilled to get all the grapes and peaches Mr. Stone had sent me. I have been feeding the trashbin repeatedly with bouquets of roses for my own satisfaction.

Ms. Trinket fussed at me because my clothes began to hang more loosely around my breast and waist and she would not be pleased to let them alter since I already had a petite form that most of my fellow cast couldn't fit into if the costume was to be used for some other play. Or by someone else, but she was too polite to say that.

Mr. Mellark hasn't been at the theatre since. I know I shouldn't care, but it hasn't gone unnoticed by Delly.

_*One month and two weeks since he's been gone*_

I finally got to see my little one. Seeing the joy in his eyes once he spotted me was the best moment in these past weeks, causing tears to form in my eyes. But the way he came up to me was rather timid, making me feel unimportant just a moment later as I had put all my love into our embrace and what I got was stiffening. His whole demeanor had changed; he was quieter and calmer as if he's shying away from me. He cannot have forgotten about me yet, I see it in his eyes, but there's also something hesitant I could not place. I have never seen him like this before and it worries me. Also the side glances he threw to Mrs. Bukowski who sat in a corner knitting and keeping an eye on us like a hawk. I wished I was alone with him. I knew I had no right to that, that I should be thankful I was allowed to be here.

I had expected more, not this cautious manner; I knew it couldn't have been as usual, but more than few words. Yes, I had expected a real hug and I did not get any. Disappointment washed through me.

For about two hours we played in the back with his building bricks (more like I tried to play and he sat by me) until Mrs. Bukowski decided it was enough and basically ushered me out in what she thought must be a polite manner when it actually wasn't. James had tears in his eyes when I had to leave and finally clung to me, a hug which selfishly filled me with joy, which consoled me, which made it worth all the wait.

It was me who picked him up to soothe him. She was not even trying, nor did she attempt to coo, she only pursed her lips and stared at the both of us. I told him everything was fine and that I was coming back soon to see him. Warmth and dampness spread through my blouse at my collarbone as I rocked him forth and back until I had no longer an excuse as he had calmed. I finally handed him over to Mrs. Bukowski. I had to. The icy glare she gave me could equal one of mine, but I was unimpressed by it.

I tried to behave as respectfully as I could but this lady made this really hard, I didn't like her. Mr. Bukowski was polite by any means, but she was another story. I could not help myself but compare her to the witch in one of the fairytales in one of the books that were still untouched in James' room back home.

_*Two months since he's been gone*_

The idea to go to church to catch a glimpse of him during the service struck me to still my longing. He wasn't there that week. Nor the week after. I left disappointed, not bothering to come back the week after receiving a letter from Mr. Bukowski basically asking me not to do that again to not confuse James with my presence. I suspected his wife to have made him write that but of course I could not prove it.

After I received another letter asking to postpone my granted monthly meeting again, I got suspicious. Were they trying to kick me out of his life in the long run, delaying one appointment after another until I was fed up with it and eventually gave up? They did not do me justice, perhaps they weren't acquainted with the fact that I was not only known for my unusual way of living but also for my stubbornness if I set my mind on something. And my nephew and his well-being happened to be one of those somethings. Meeting him was what currently kept me going.

_*Two months and three weeks since he's been gone*_

Mr. Mellark was at the play today and dared to smile at me visibly for everyone on stage to see, so that a cheery Delly began to make hints about it afterwards. She seemed to fancy the idea of me and him, even though she should know better about this one also. At least, her mind was regularly busy about Thom-this and Thom-that so I was lucky that it wouldn't last very long until she shared that with me again.

One of the perks of not having Miss Mason with me anymore. Though I began to miss her -which I would never publicly admit. As much as I liked Delly and as much as I had hated Miss Mason pestering me with my "admirers" as she used to call them, sometimes I think I can endure her loose tongue and way to see things easier than Delly's sweetness, especially since then.

I knew she tried to show compassion, but reminding me of my misery wasn't going to do that. It got easier going home, but being there still wasn't any more pleasant than it has been before.

_*Three months since he's been gone*_

I received another letter and I knew even before I opened it what was asked of me. Sadness and longing turned into frustration. That was the last straw. I was so close to stomping over there and demanding to see him, but fortunately Rue had been home and talked some sense into me. Something I definitely needed -she was right of course, it wouldn't help my case, if I annoyed either of them, most likely Mrs. Josephine Bukowski - oh how much I began to despise her!

By what Mrs. Flickerman was just telling one of the other customer's at Sae's purposely for me to hear, Mrs. Bukowski was absolutely doing fine, James wouldn't be as wild as he had been with me, yes, he had shown manners when she had met them, and she was seriously considering letting him play with her own boy. And then she had the nerve to bid me sweetly goodbye when she left the store.

"Don't let it get to you, girl", Sae tried to calm me and gave me a reassuring smile. Some of her teeth were missing which made it more a grimace. We knew each other since forever; I guessed even when I would be forty, she would still call me girl until the end of her days. I tried a half-smile in attempt to show her that this wasn't the case, but who was I to fool anyone nowadays? The truth is the insults adding up got under my skin.

My anger hadn't left me when I left my house the second time at noon to buy bread for the weekend and the look Mr. Mellark gave me wasn't making anything better. In my anger, I was even less up for pity than under normal circumstances. Despite my sour attire, he managed a convincingly genuine smile towards me. Somehow, this was even harder to endure.

"_What can I do for you today, Miss Everdeen?_"

"_The usual, please, Mr. Mellark_." I tried to keep conversation as short as possible, I certainly did not feel like talking and I was not sure if, at the current point (if triggered) my anger wasn't going in the wrong direction -which was something Mr. Mellark clearly did not deserve- though I might be glad if he stopped smiling at me; it just was wrong.

"_I don't want to sound intrusive, but is everything okay, Miss Everdeen?_" I noticed how he tried to be casual, but the sympathy was lingering underneath. I drew a deep, calming breath before I answered.

"_Mr. Mellark, I appreciate your concern, but I am afraid there is nothing I wish to talk about._" The thoughtful expression on his face and the gnawing on his bottom lip –still with a small smile lying underneath - told me he wouldn't let go and I was proven right. I silently begged for the bell above the door to chime, but of course no one but me would do their purchases at noon. I asked myself if it had been preferable to tolerate someone else's gossip or insults towards me at another time of the day over being alone with Mr. Mellark like just now.

"_Miss Everdeen, I know it is inappropriate for me to ask, but from what I hear, I just want to say, if you need anyone to talk, I'll be there._" His tone was almost soothing, but exactly this was the last drop in the bucket.

"_From what you heard, do you think that complaining about it to someone I barely know is my major priority right now?_", I snapped before I could help myself.

"_I suppose not_", he answered calmly, seemingly unimpressed by my tone, but before I could give a response, he went on: "_But I thought that you might like to talk about it to get it off your chest. No offense, but you seem to me like you might need it_." To say I was a bit embarrassed inwardly was an understatement. The worst thing about that was that both of us knew he was right and there was no sense in denying the obvious. Still. But I couldn't see myself defeated like that; this was one of those occasions that I already knew while speaking that I was making a mistake and regretted them silently at the same time.

"_And what makes you think that I should talk to you of all people?_" As soon as the words were out, I felt calmer, less controlled by my emotions as reason began settling in.

His new tone was impressive. I could tell he was able to contain his anger far better than I was, when he pressed through gritted teeth: "_I'm sorry, I think I have mistaken you._" He silently handed me the bread and accepted the money with the same stoic face.

"_It is everything but easy, Mr. Mellark_" I admitted hesitantly; now that my fire was gone I saw myself cornered into offering an explanation for being the way I was, if I wanted to stay on good terms with him. Somehow I trusted him enough that he would not use it against me; he had always been nice to me, though everything inside called me a fool to talk so openly, to behave so unlike my nature. My mood and my situation were not his fault, so I found myself in an equal sense of guilt and will to tell him, to get it off my chest, as he had nicely phrased it.

"_Before, I had a profession and a nephew to take care of, now I'm not needed anymore. I'm replaceable in all of my roles, James has a new family from which I hear he is very happy with. By all means, I am obviously not wished to be a part of and I believe there is not much that can be done about that since I have to bow to his parents' wishes. You have no idea, I feel so useless. And I never thought it possible to miss him so much._" Why did I think finally speaking it out aloud would make me feel any better? For one, it was none of Mr. Mellark's business and secondly, if anything it just made me more self-conscious. And vulnerable. To him.

Mr. Mellark frowned at my words.

"_I'm sorry I couldn't keep my temper. Good-bye, Mr. Mellark."_ What was I thinking telling him that? I couldn't take back my words, but I had to be strong. Thus. I straightened my shoulders and turned to leave.

"_I think I know what you mean_", he mumbled to my back. I faced him again.

"_You do?"_ I could hardly contain my surprise, but I had to admit that there were only few things that I knew about him for a fact and some that I assumed like that he must have had this bad leg for a long time, since he seemed to be able to cover its stiffness to a certain degree. And that he must be kind of well-off, to be able to buy a shop and the equipment at his young age plus the unusual circumstance that he as a baker was invited to Delly's party. It seems I have noticed more about him than I originally thought.

"_To be considered physically imperfect goes along with being considered incapable for a lot of other things to many people."_ He didn't say "including you", but nonetheless I was immediately reminded of Delly's birthday party when I accidentally insulted him and his deadpan face afterwards. It seems there was much more to know about him than I ever acknowledged and here I was in the bakery and still he tried to help me.

The conversation we just had, good Lord, had I been blinded by my anger?

"_I'm sorry that I just made you feel this way_", I apologized. He shrugged dismissively. No, I didn't want to leave it like that. "_Let me make this clear. I don't think you are 'incapable', Mr. Mellark. You are just different from anyone else_." It made him snort in bitterness and I hurried to go on: "_Different doesn't mean bad in any way. In case you haven't noticed, you are one of the few people who never judged me for James, whereas most assumed he was mine born out of wedlock and treated me like some outcast. Even people who knew he is my sister's son behaved like that. You never did, and I am very grateful for that. In that respect, you have been nothing but a gentleman_." Now that I spoke it aloud, I became truly aware of how much I had silently appreciated it.

The hostility leaving softened his features, but since he still seemed unconvinced, I added: "_No, Mr. Mellark, I mean it. It's not my place to ask about the details but whoever made you believe this is utterly wrong. Despite what you seem to think, you are different in a very positive way and I should consider myself happy to be of your acquaintance._" That was probably the most coherent speech I had had in a while and the least born out of sadness, anger or something alike but of pure reason.

"_From what I have seen, James looked happier with you."_ To hear that was some balm for my soul, more than I cared to admit.

"_Thank you."_ He looked indecisive before he spoke again.

"_I am invited to a party at a friend's next Sunday. Would you … would you do me the honour of accompanying me?_" A hopeful tune was in his words and I didn't really know what to think about it, about the change in topic, about everything.

"_I'm not convinced that is a good idea_", I replied truthfully and hoped he would get the hint. He had sounded hesitant and to be honest, if it hadn't been for our misunderstanding I would have declined straight away. Even if he meant it nicely, I did not want him to get too close; it just did not work for me. People that meant the world to me always left. Papa and consequently mama, then Prim, now James, and I see where this last one had gotten me.

I was not embarrassed to be seen with him in general, but because of what people might think about that, especially Mrs. Gregory Bukowski. The whole situation had overstrained my nerves, my changes in mood had just proven that, and I wasn't sure if I could face this kind of gossip it was for sure to create.

"_As a friend, I mean?_"

"_As a friend, that is_", I agreed, because after all, I still felt some kind of guilt, like I owed him and to make amends for my misbehavior. And I was still not sure if I should like my choice.


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer:__ I do not own anything The Hunger Games trilogy related. All rights belong to Suzanne Collins. I merely write for my own entertainment and I certainly do not make any profit of it._

_**A/N**__: Thank you all, my lovely readers, for sticking with me, your support and for showing so much patience. I love to read all your reviews and thoughts about the story! They make my day :)_

_Also a big thanks to my awesome beta Mary for making sense of everything I write. Thank you so much for everything!_

_Just one more little thing to add. Originally I had another thing planned for this story, but it doesn't fit in anymore, it will probably be published as a one-shot later on. That's why I may announce the end is neigh!_

_But now I hope you enjoy the chapter. Have a nice week!_

* * *

My fears hadn't vanished; I was still torn between cancelling the appointment with Mr. Mellark and for some inexplicable reason I also began looking forward to it. It took me two days to explain my slightly better mood to myself, but finally I found the reason. It was simply that he had lightened my heart with his kind words. I can hardly describe it, but somehow, his words got through to me more than anything else that I'd been told. I think the others have noticed also but I think they are too afraid to ruin my momentary state of happiness to mention anything.

And the fact that he had opened up to me, of all people, had really astonished me.

Who was I to him? A customer whom he occasionally met and who had insulted him often enough to only be polite and nothing more? But he had invited me to attend his friends' birthday party with him, which must mean that he at least thought my company was pleasant. Or at least pleasant enough. Maybe someone else had declined him? Maybe I was only second or even third choice? Could this be why can't I stop wondering about this? Perhaps he had not even considered asking me at all in the beginning, and it had been a coincidence that I was around while he was in a state of weakness?

No, I did not want to believe it, but what else could be the reason? The longer I thought about this, the more I assumed that it must indeed be the case. I mean…..

My train of thought was interrupted by Rue's arrival, a bit out of breath from hurrying. I had made myself a cup of cheap black tea, but now that I finally remembered to drink it, it was barely lukewarm - and left a bitter taste on my tongue.

Rue did not even bother with a greeting, and neither did I - still to lost in my own thoughts. She sat down across the table. Beads of sweat glistened on her forehead, if from rushing or the warm August weather I could not tell; probably both. She put some water to boil on the stove.

"_Mr. Mellark told me to send you his best wishes. He is making cheese buns today, but they were still in the oven when I left._" She looked at me expectantly, and when I did not reply, she added: "_I think he likes you_."

"_Rue_!" I exclaimed, but though it further confused my assumptions.

"_Katniss. I just said he likes you, not that you must like him back._" Sometimes she is like Prim in those matters, a bit like an adolescent, straight to the point, almost close to the border of impropriety. Honestly, if it wasn't Rue, I would call it rudeness.

"_He asked me to go to a party at his friends' with him, I believe he has not found another person to accompany him_", I admitted. I might as well tell her, she would notice on Sunday anyway. If I was going, that is.

"_Sometimes you are unbelievable, Katniss."_ She shook her head and raised an eyebrow at me. And so I told her. When I was finished, she pressed her lips tightly together to keep herself from laughing, but her twitching corners of the mouth gave her away. I felt partly annoyed because she obviously thought this was funny and partly angry with myself for having confided in her first-hand.

"_What_?" I barked.

"_You are so unbelievable, Katniss_", she repeated her former words and shook her head. Before I could question her any further, there was a knocking on our front door. I cannot remember the last time someone came to visit us, it's been a while. I threw a glance to Rue, but she only shrugged, obviously having no more clue who our visitor was than I.

The knock came again, this time more forceful. To my surprise it was Sae. She had never visited before and that she was now was giving me the strange feeling something was up. I led her into the kitchen and Rue excused herself, but I shrugged her off.

"_I think you should hear what I accidentally listened to this afternoon. I came as soon as I could_", the old lady said and I set a steaming mug in front of her unasked. "_You know I do not like to gossip, but I do think this is important. Lucius Crane was throwing a temper tantrum for not getting his will in the shop today. You should have seen him, no manners at all, they spoil him too much, if you ask me. If he had been my son, believe me I would have slapped him in the face that very instant. Anyway when his mother would not listen he threatened to run away like James_." She gave me a strange look and in my confusion to make sense of her words, to put together the pieces I caught myself staring at the gap between her teeth.

"_Excuse me?_"

"_Yes, yes, first I also thought I misheard or that he must mean someone else, but then Mrs. Crane warned him that she would take care of him like Josephine did to James_." I frowned. Whatever that meant, I was sure it was nothing good.

"_I'm going to find out. Now_", I growled and stood up. "_Sorry, Sae_ –" but she had already shrugged me off.

"_Get yourself going, girl. I'm sure Rue will keep me company until I'm finished_." I did not wait for Rue to agree, only grabbed my bonnet and headed off, putting it on while rushing down the street. I was sure I looked disheveled, but right now I could not care any less. My mind was empty, all I could keep thinking was that I had to get to Bukowski's house as soon as possible. A car honked at me and I cannot say why, I didn't even look, but I was sure the driver was right.

In what felt like hours I finally arrived. Impatiently I knocked at the backdoor and straightened my skirt a little while waiting. Seconds passed. When nothing happened, I repeated the action. I was sure they were home, where else should they be on a Wednesday evening?

I knocked a third time, so hard that I hurt my knuckles on the hard wood, when I finally heard a door slamming and Mr. Bukowski opened with a tight-lipped smile.

"_Good evening, Miss Everdeen. It's a bit late for an unannounced visit don't you think_?", he admonished sourly before I had the chance to say anything. He looked exhausted but that was none of my concerns.

"_My apologies, Mr. Bukowski, but desperate times call for desperate measures_."

"_You mean? Look, Miss Everdeen, it has been a_-"

"_Excuse me, Sir. I do not care. It has come to my knowledge that James ran away and that your wife took care of it in a way that I do not know of. Thus I would like you to tell me how come my little nephew that you promised to take care off, who is your own flesh and blood, fled and what your wife's solution to that was and I like to see him myself, if you have no objections_." I felt my heart beat in my chest and it took all of my willpower to remain composed and friendly.

"_I am afraid you overreacted, Miss Everdeen. You know how kids are, don't get their will and then behave stupidly. Anyway, he is already sleeping, I think you agree with me to not wake him, don't you_?" He laughed nervously and it was not hard to tell it was fake. Was he getting nervous? And if he was, why? My chest tightened.

"_Oh, I'm not sure how much you know about his time with me, but though I did not always bow to his wishes, he never even considered_-" A cry interrupted me and his plastered smile faltered for a split second.

"_What was that_?" I demanded.

"_The cat. Maybe the clumsy maid stepped on her tail again, she often does_."

"_That was no cat_" I argued. There was a short silence, but it was long enough to tell someone was yelling at the back. "_And that is no cat either. What is wrong here, Mr. Bukowski_?"

"_I assure you, everything is fi-_" He rubbed the nape of his neck which would have made me even more suspicious if I wasn't already on high alert.

"_What. is. wrong_?" I emphasized every single word. A door in the hallway opened and Mrs. Bukowski yelled "_Stay here, you little_ …" What exactly she said I did not catch because that was the moment James cried out aloud and I shoved her husband unceremoniously aside and made my way into the house uninvited.

"_Let go of him immediately_!" I shouted as I caught sight of Mrs. Josephine Bukowski several feet away, with James in a grip that I can only imagine must have considerably hurt him. But that was not even the worst part.

"_Oh, who are you to tell me how to treat my __**son**_?" she spat, not loosening her grip the slightest bit.

"_Let go of him or I will do the same what you did to his face_," I threatened.

"_Tatty_," James cried. It didn't take me another second. I grabbed her wrist which still bore into James' skin.

"_Let go_", I repeated and this time she obeyed. I immediately took him into my arms and wrapped them around him protectively, as he sobbed into my blouse uncontrollably. I went a few steps back.

"_How dare you_!"

"_How dare YOU treat him like that_."

"_Josephine_", Mr. Bukowski interfered cautiously. All colour had left his face and he looked overwhelmed. He had done nothing but watched the whole scene. What kind of man is he?

"_Oh no, this is all your fault, Gregory. I would not take him in, but you, no. Simply no. It is not my fault he grew up like a savage. I only did what was necessary. You brought him in and I kept my part of our agreement_!", she shrieked. Her face was flushed with anger and I noticed that her fists were balled.

This was not my affair to deal with. I was done here.

"_I expect his things to be delivered to my house by tomorrow noon. Don't dare take any legal action against me. If I hear only an utter about me or James or any made up reasons as to why he is with me again, I swear I will make his abuse public. So do think twice about your future actions. I will have him examined at the doctor's tomorrow so don't you dare test me! Good evening_." I turned on my heel and left with a sobbing James cradled in my arms. When we were out of sight, I finally had the courage to stop and set him down, but he would not let go and hugged my knees.

I knelt down as best as I could and he buried himself in my arms. A maid who was passing by was giving me a strange look, but hurried away at my glare.

"_Shh, James_," I soothed, "_You are not going back there, I promise. Let me look at you_." He let go of me reluctantly, but only so far that he could still hold my hands. I was shocked, in the dim light in the hallway, it had not looked this terrible and I would not want to imagine how all of this happened.

His face was bruised and stained from tears. His right eye was swollen and red and there was a barely healed cut above his eyebrow. Not too mention a pink scar at his earlobe. At least nothing seemed broken as far as I could tell. He still sobbed, but no more tears were flowing.

Obviously he considered he had been out of my arms long enough and with another cry of, "_Tatty_" he was in my arms again. Though he was far too heavy by now, I carried him all the way home. I hummed the melody of his lullaby all the way, not only to calm him but also to distract me.

By the time I arrived at my house my arms burned from his weight and it was close to impossible to open the door, but I did not want to wake him. As I had entered our street James had dozed off, I think he was too overwhelmed to cope with anything else but sleep yet.

Sae was still at our house, I could hear her and Rue talk. I guess she was curious, but since she was the one who had come to tell me, I think she at least deserved to know the outcome, even if I personally would have preferred her gone.

Thankfully I managed to bring him into my room unnoticed and laid him on the bed. He still slept. I was not so lucky when their questioning glances followed me around the kitchen when I fetched a bowl with the rest of the water we still had in the house and a washcloth to free his face from dirt and tears.

"_He is asleep_," I informed them but of course this wasn't what they wanted to know. "_He looks awful and has bruises, but please keep this to yourself. I think Mrs. Bukowski has been hitting him and if I'm guessing right not only once._"

Sae nodded. "_I assumed as much_," she mumbled while Rue was obviously too stunned to say anything.

"_I honestly cannot thank you enough, Sae, but please excuse me for now_." It was impolite of me to not wait for an answer, especially considering what she had done for me and James, but I would go and talk to her tomorrow, this evening was only for my nephew.

* * *

We went to the doctor's the next day and I let him write down every single bruise and new scars, those were still pink. So I had proof of what the Bukowskis' (I was not entirely sure how much James' father was involved, even if he had not hit him himself, he must have at least silently witnessed it and had not stepped in) had done to him and it was worth every single penny of the fee I had to pay. To be honest, I had to gulp when I saw the streak that a belt or something alike must have done to his back.

Today James was a bit better, dismayed and still clingy and wouldn't let go of me a single second, as if the touch was a reminder to him that this was no dream. Nonetheless when I had tried to caress his cheek he was startled and his eyes wide as saucers. It was hard for me to stay calm and keep my anger to myself when as much as a comforting gesture was frightening him. His eye was still swollen but it definitely looked better than yesterday. And he was quiet and had not said 20 words all day. And all those were when he doctor had asked if this or that hurt. It hurt seeing him like that and I think it would have been a relief to cry with him, yet I was afraid if I broke down, James would too and all I wanted was to distract him from that.

What bothered me most was that he had denied his breakfast, which had never occurred before but for now I thought it better not to force him considering what he must have gone through.

"_What do you think about having a cookie, James_?" I asked him, trying to get him out of his shell. We weren't far from the bakery and we would not make too big a detour going to Mellark's bakery. He only squeezed my hand in response, so I looked at him. He just nodded, no smile. I had to gulp down the lump that formed in my throat once again.

There were two old ladies in the store but I did not know them and they did not pay us any attention, which I was grateful for. But of course Mr. Mellark did and I noticed that he pressed his lips tightly at the sight of James who was half hiding behind my skirt. Though he served them politely and was chit-chatting a bit, I noticed his attention was on us.

"_Three cookies, please_", I asked when it was my turn to order. He did not say anything, which surprised me, considering how closely he had been watching James and I.

"_Uhm, Mr. Mellark? That's already six, but I think three are already more than enough for my little boy_." Not too mention the price.

"_Oh, oh sorry_", he apologized; he shook his head as if to ridden his head of his thoughts. He put two back. "_One's on me_," he said. "_Is he … okay_?" I really did not know how to answer his. I wanted to be honest with him, but I did not want to tell too much.

So I vaguely replied "_He will be in a few days_."

"_I'm sorry to bother you, because I comprehend you have other concerns right now, but I will understand if you cannot make it on Sunday_." It took a few moments until it dawned on me. As much as I had thought about this yesterday, today I had completely forgotten, but the thoughts and my assumptions came back straight in my mind immediately.

"_Uhm_," I said indecisively. He offered me the perfect excuse and opportunity and I had it not in me to take him up on that.

"_You weren't going to come_," he stated obviously guessing my second thoughts and believed to have heard a hint of sadness in his voice.

"_No, no, I was not. I mean I was. I am confused_", I admitted my defeat.

"_Because of what happened to him_?" he asked.

"_Partly yes. How do you know_…?" If it had been me seeing a boy in this state I would have guessed he fell down a tree or something. But maybe I was usually too oblivious concerning those kind of things.

"_I know very well that this does not happen from running into a door, Miss Everdeen_." he pointed to James. I frowned.

"Please do not tell anyone, I don't want everybody to know," I said.

"_But you have to, Miss Everdeen. What if they have their own children one day? I'd rather have people look twice than beat a child to death_!" he shouted. I would have never supposed he could be so angry with anyone, but I stood up against him.

"_Me too, but I have a deal with them and I will keep my part if that means James is going to stay with me."_ My voice trembled. I did not shout like him, but obviously I had been loud enough to scare James who started weeping. I couldn't help myself but throw Mr. Mellark a nasty look.

"_Ssssh, I'm sorry James. We did not want to shout, don't cry, everything is fine_." When I couldn't calm him, I took him into my arms and rocked him up and down like a small child, silently singing his lullaby which eventually worked.

"_I'm sorry_," Mr. Mellark apologized. "_It's just –_" He did not finish his line.

"_It's okay_", I assured him, "_He's a bit sensitive and that is not your fault_." James stared at him wide-eyed, still a bit afraid until Mr. Mellark handed him one cookie of the display. He only took it when I nodded. Damn you, Bukowski!, I thought.

"_I'm sorry, James_", he told him and to me "_I'm sorry though and I should have known better than to scare him. My apologies Miss Everdeen, my behaviour towards you was all but appropriate, though I hope that maybe we can meet sometime else if you cannot make it on Sunday_." He really sounded hopeful and that strange feeling of glee crept back into my stomach, seeing him now with this genuine smile I immediately chased away all doubts I had had about him. And it made me happy for reason I did not dare to think about. Because they were not possible.

"_See, I do not know how he is going to be on Sunday. We will see how he will take it if I am in the theatre tonight. I'm not sure if he will let go off me on Sunday also. I think it is only fair to you if you would reconsider someone else as company for as I can make no promises given under the circumstances and I do not want to disappoint you the last moment, if I would not be going to make it. I'm sorry for troubling you. I really am."_

"_You can hardly disappoint me, Miss Everdeen_." A blush crept over his face and I had nothing to say to that. "_So if you decide and want to come with me, my offer is still up_."

"_Thank you, Mr. Mellark. I won't make any promises, yet I hope to see you on Sunday_." It was no lie.

"_So do I_."

He held the door open for us and I went home with a smile on my face.


End file.
